IBRARY 

tllVESWTY  m 
CALtfORBIA 

AN  D1EQ0 


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OUTLINES   OF   SOCIOLOGY 


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■j^^y^o- 


OUTLINES  OF  SOCIOLOGY 


BY 


LESTER   F.    WARD 

AUTHOR   OF   "dynamic   SOCIOLOGY,"    "THE    PSYCHIC 
FACTORS   OF  CIVILIZATION,"    ETC. 


THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

LONDON:  MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  Ltd. 
1899 

All  right*  reterved 


COPYEIGUT,  1897, 

bt  the  macmillan  company. 


Set  up  and  electrotyped  January,  1898.       Reprinted  June, 
1899. 


Norfaooti  ?P«S8 

J.  8.  Cushing  &  Co.  -  Berwick  &  Smith 

Norwood  Mass.  U.S.A. 


To 

Br.  Sllbion  Wi.  Small 

the  first  to  draw  attention  to  the  educational 

value  of  my  social  philosophy 

the  stanch  defender  of  my  method 

in  sociology 

and  to  whom  the  prior  appearance  of  these 

chapters  is  due 

This  Work  is  Gratefully  Dedicated 


PREFACE 

This  little  work  has  been  mainly  the  outcome  of 
a  course  of  lectures  which  I  delivered  at  the  School 
of  Sociology  of  the  Hartford  Society  for  Education 
Extension  in  1894  and  1895.  They  were  given 
merely  from  notes  in  six  lectures  the  first  of  these 
years,  and  expanded  into  twelve  lectures  the  follow- 
ing year  in  substantially  their  present  form.  The 
American  Journal  of  Sociology  having  been  instituted 
in  that  year,  I  was  requested  to  contribute,  and  one 
of  the  twelve  lectures  appeared  in  each  number 
from  its  first  issue,  that  of  July,  1895,  until  its 
twelfth,  that  of  May,  1897,  forming  an  uninter- 
rupted series. 

The  general  name  for  this  series  of  papers  was 
"  Contributions  to  Social  Philosophy."  For  the  first 
six  of  these  papers,  or  one  half  of  the  series,  this 
appellation  is  sufficiently  appropriate,  since  they 
treat  mainly  of  the  relation  of  sociology  to  other 
cognate  sciences.  Since  it  has  been  perceived  that 
science  consists  in  the  discovery  of  truth  and  not  in 
the  accumulation  of  facts,  the  distinction  between 


Vlll  PREFACE 

science  and  philosophy  has  become  less  clear  than  it 
was  formerly  supposed  to  be.  It  is  certain  that  the 
scientific  progress  of  the  world  has  been  the  result  of 
thought  applied  to  phenomena  ;  and  this  surely  is 
something  very  near  to  philosophy.  Professor  Rob- 
ert Flint,  in  his  History  of  the  Philosophy  of  History, 
says:  "No  special  science  is  excluded  from  having 
the  closest  connection  with  and  interest  in  philoso- 
phy, so  that  each  special  science,  and  even  every 
special  subject,  may  be  naturally  said  to  have  its 
philosophy;  the  philosophy  of  a  subject  as  distin- 
guished from  its  science  being  the  view  or  theory  of 
the  relations  of  the  subject  to  other  subjects  and  to 
the  known  world  in  general,  as  distinguished  from  the 
view  or  theory  of  it  as  isolated  or  in  itself."  ^  Pro- 
fessor George  G.  Wilson  of  Brown  University,  in 
a  paper  read  before  the  Social  Science  Association,^ 
adopts  this  definition  of  Professor  Flint  for  Social 
Philosophy,  which  has  at  least  the  merit  of  once 
more  clearly  differentiating  philosophy  from  science, 
and  is  to  be  recommended  for  all  the  other  sciences. 
I  do  not  hesitate  to  apply  it  to  the  first  part  of  this 
work. 

For  the  second   part,  however,  the  name   social 

^  Historical  Philosophy  in  France  and  French  Belgium  and 
Switzerland,  1894,  New  York,  p,  20. 

2  "The  Place  of  Social  Philosophy,"  Journal  of  Social  Science, 
No.  XXXII.,  November,  1894,  pp.  139-143. 


PREFACE  ix 

philosophy  is  not  applicable  in  the  same  sense,  but 
only  in  the  older  more  general  sense  in  which  the 
term  philosophy  is  practically  synonjonous  with 
science,  albeit  the  science  is  treated  very  broadly. 
I  therefore  conclude  to  divide  the  work  into  two 
parts,  calling  the  first  Social  Philosophy,  and  the 
second  Social  Science. 

As  regards  the  general  name  for  the  whole  work, 
it  seems  to  be  quite  correct  to  designate  the  whole 
as  Outlines  of  Sociology;  the  term  being  used  in  a 
very  literal  sense  for  the  first  part,  and  in  the  ordi- 
nary sense  for  the  second.  The  primary  task  has 
been,  as  it  were,  to  bound  the  science  —  to  mark  it 
off  from  other  sciences,  hem  it  in,  and  clearly  differ- 
entiate it.  The  second  task  has  been  to  sketch  it  in 
broad  outlines  calculated  to  bring  out  its  true  char- 
acter unobscured  by  detail.  Part  I.  may  be  looked 
upon  as  the  frame  and  setting  of  a  pen  sketch 
embodied  in  Part  II.  Looked  at  from  a  somewhat 
different  point  of  view,  the  earlier  chapters  may  be 
regarded  as  aiming  to  show  what  sociology  is  not, 
while  the  later  ones  have  for  their  object  to  set  forth 
in  broad  outlines  what  sociology  is. 

It  has  appeared  to  me  that  these  two  objects  are 
of  prime  importance  in  the  present  state  of  opinion 
respecting  this  science,  wlien  so  many  conflicting 
views  are  current  as  to  its  true  nature  and  scope. 
No  question  is  more  frequently  asked  me  than  how  I 


X  PREFACE 

would  define  sociology;  and  nevertheless  I  have  ob- 
served that  contemporary  works  on  sociology  teem 
with  definitions  of  the  science,  many  entirely  differ- 
ent ones  occurring  in  the  same  work.  Indeed,  I  am 
almost  the  only  one  who  has  written  on  the  subject 
who  has  not  ventured  one  or  more  definitions.  This 
has  been  because  it  has  been  apparent  to  me  that  it 
is  not  definitions  that  are  needed,  but  clear  explana- 
tions and  definite  delimitations  of  its  field.  It  is 
these  that  the  present  work  aims  to  supply  from  the 
standpoint  of  its  author,  who  would  not  thereby 
deny  the  claims  of  others  who  look  at  the  subject 
from  other  standpoints. 

L.  F.  W. 

Washington,  November  5, 1897. 


CONTENTS 
Part  I 

SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY 
CHAPTER  I 

FAQB 

The  Place  of  Sociology  among  the  Sciences         .        3 

CHAPTER   II 
Relation  of  Sociology  to  Cosmology        ...      21 

CHAPTER  III 
Relation  of  Sociology  to  Biology     ....      43 

CHAPTER  IV 
Relation  of  Sociology  to  Anthropology         .        .      64 

CHAPTER  V 
Relation  of  Sociology  to  Psychology      ...      94 

CHAPTER  VI 
The  Data  of  Sociology         .        .        .        .        .        .    116 


xii  CONTENTS 

Paet  II 

SOCIAL  SCIENCE 
CHAPTER  VII 

PAQE 

The  Social  Forces 139 

CHAPTER  VIII 
The  Mechanics  of  Society 160 

CHAPTER  IX 
The  Purpose  of  Sociology 191 

CHAPTER  X 
Social  Genesis 213 

CHAPTER  XI 
Individual  Telesis 234 

CHAPTER  XII 
Collective  Telesis 262 

INDEX 295 


PART  I 
SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY 


CHAPTER  I 

THE   PLACE   OF    SOCIOLOGY   AMONG    THE    SCIENCES  i 

The  word  sociology  first  appeared  in  print  in  its 
French  form  "  sociologie "  in  the  fourth  volume  of 
Auguste  Comte's  Positive  Philosophy^  the  first  edi- 
tion of  which  was  published  in  1839.  The  author's 
"  avertissement "  prefixed  to  that  volume  is  dated 
December  23,  1838,  so  that  the  word  must  have  been 
penned  during  the  year  1838  or  earlier.  That  edi- 
tion has  long  been  exhausted  and  is  accessible  to 
few,  but  in  the  third  edition  of  1869,  which  is  per- 
haps the  best  known  to  the  public,  the  word  occurs 
on  page  185  of  Vol.  IV.  In  a  footnote  the  author 
says: — 

I  think  I  should  venture,  from  this  time  on,  to  employ 
this  term,  the  exact  equivalent  of  my  expression  social 
physics  already  introduced,  in  order  to  be  able  to  desig- 
nate by  a  single  name  that  complementary  part  of  natural 
philosophy  which  relates  to  the  positive  study  of  all  the 
fundamental  laws  proper  to  social  phenomena.  The  ne- 
cessity for  such  a  denomination  to  correspond  to  the 
special  aim  of  this  volume  will,  I  hope,  excuse  here  this 
last  exercise  of  a  legitimate  right,  which  1  believe  1  have 

1  American  Journal  of  Sociology,  Vol.  I.,  No.  1,  Chicago,  July, 
1895,  pp.  10-27. 


4  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  parti 

always  used  with  all  due  circumspection,  and  without 
ceasing  to  feel  a  strong  repugnance  to  the  practice  of 
systematic  neologism. 

The  world  is  certainly  greatly  indebted  to  Comte 
for  this  word,  as  it  is  also  for  that  other  useful  word 
of  his,  altruism.  Words  are  the  tools  of  thought, 
and  ideas  can  no  more  progress  without  words  than 
can  the  arts  without  instruments  and  machinery. 
Although  the  word  sociology  is  derived  from  both 
Latin  and  Greek,  still  it  is  fully  justified  by  the 
absence  in  the  Greek  language  of  the  most  essential 
component.  While  it  need  not  altogether  replace 
the  virtually  synonymous  expression  social  science,  it 
can  be  used  in  many  cases  where  that  could  not.  It 
tends  to  give  compactness  to  the  general  conception 
and  to  unify  the  nomenclature  of  the  sciences.  In 
doing  so  it  also  adds  somewhat  both  qualitatively 
and  quantitatively  to  the  thought.  We  all  know 
what  an  improvement  physics  has  been  upon  natural 
philosophy,  and  biology  ^  upon  natural  history. 

Sociology  stands  in  about  the  same  relation  to  the 
old  philosophy  of  history,  but  any  one  can  see  how 
greatly  it  modifies  and   amplifies   that   conception. 

1  Until  Huxley  in  1876  went  to  the  bottom  of  the  subject  (see 
Science  and  Education  Essays,  London,  1893,  p.  268)  and  showed 
that  the  word  biology  was  first  employed  by  Lamarck  in  a  work 
which  appeared  in  1801,  there  was  much  confusion  as  to  the  origin 
of  this  word.  Comte  {Phil.  Pos.  III.,  81)  ascribed  it  to  de  Blainville, 
and  I  followed  him  erroneously.  Professor  Giddings  by  a  still 
greater  error  has  recently  {Theory  of  Sociology,  p.  17)  given  the 
credit  to  Comte. 


CHAP.  I  THE  PLACE    OF  SOCIOLOGY  5 

Another  of  its  marked  advantages  is  that  it  is  a 
single  word  and  as  such  has  its  appropriate  deriva- 
tives, especially  its  adjective  sociological,  which  so 
greatly  simplifies  expression.  When  we  consider, 
therefore,  that  this  science,  new  as  it  is,  has  its  defi- 
nite name  and  several  useful  synonyms,  and  that  be- 
sides the  regular  adjective  sociological  it  has  the 
shorter  one  social  ^  which  conveys  a  somewhat  differ- 
ent idea,  we  may  well  regard  this  most  complex  field 
of  investigation  as  even  better  equipped  with  the 
necessary  implements  of  culture  than  many  of  the 
simpler  fields.  So  much  for  words- 
Philosophers  of  all  ages  have  been  at  work  upon 
the  problem  of  a  logical  and  natural  classification  of 
the  sciences.  Not  to  speak  of  the  ancients,  we  have 
had  systems  by  Oken,  Hegel,  d'Alembert,  Ampere, 
Locke,  Hobbes,  and  many  others  before  Comte  and 
Spencer.  Each  of  these  systems  has  been  largely  a 
product  of  the  quality  of  the  author's  mind  and  was 
specially  adapted  to  the  general  thesis  of  his  philos- 
ophy. In  selecting  from  among  them  all  that  of 
Comte  as  best  adapted  to  the  subject  of  social  phi- 
losophy I  am  far  from  condemning  all  others  or  even 
making  odious  comparisons.  There  is  always  more 
than   one   entirely   correct   way   of   classifying   the 

1  Dr.  Albion  W.  Small  has,  since  tho  above  wa.s  written,  very 
properly  called  attention  to  the  special  value  of  the;  word  socie- 
tary  in  discussing  social  questions.  Sec  Ann.  Pol.  &  Soc.  Set., 
Vol.  v.,  May,  1895,  p.  120. 


6  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  part  i 

phenomena  of  any  great  field.  For  example,  the 
classification  of  the  sciences  which  Spencer  pro- 
poses as  a  substitute  for  Comte's,  although  a  good 
one  for  certain  purposes,  is  not  a  substitute  for 
that  classification  and  cannot  be  devoted  to  the 
purpose  for  which  Comte  employed  it.  Spencer's 
is  a  formal  or  logical  classification,  Comte's  a  ge- 
netic or  serial  one.  The  former  shows  the  relations 
of  coexistence  among  the  sciences,  the  latter  those 
of  sequence  and  natural  subordination.  Spencer's 
is  essentially  a  statical  presentation  of  the  facts, 
Comte's  a  dynamic  one.  The  most  important  thing 
to  determine  was  the  natural  order  in  which  the 
sciences  stand  —  not  how  they  can  be  made  to  stand, 
but  how  they  must  stand,  irrespective  of  the  wishes 
of  any  one.  What  is  true  cannot  be  made  truer. 
The  world  may  question  it  and  attack  it  and  "  hawk 
at  it  and  tear  it,"  but  it  will  survive.  It  makes  no 
difference  either  how  humble  the  source  from  which 
the  truth  may  emanate.  It  is  not  a  question  of 
authority.  If  it  is  truth,  it  may  come  from  a  car- 
penter of  Nazareth  or  from  an  attic  in  the  Latin 
Quarter  ;  sooner  or  later  all  the  world  will  accept 
it.  One  of  the  most  convincing  proofs  of  the  truth 
of  Comte's  system  is  found  in  the  fact  that  Spencer 
himself,  notwithstanding  all  his  efforts  to  overthrow 
it,  actually  adopted  it  in  the  arrangement  of  the 
sciences  in  his  synthetic  philosophy  and  has  never 
suggested  that  they  should  be  otherwise  arranged. 
But  any  such  sweeping  classification  of   the  sci- 


CHAP.  I  THE  PLACE    OF  SOCIOLOGY  7 

ences  must  recognize  the  necessity  of  the  broadest 
generalization,  and  must  not  attempt  to  work  into 
the  general  plan  any  of  the  sciences  of  the  lower 
orders.  The  generalization  must  go  on  until  all 
the  strictly  coordinate  groups  of  the  highest  order 
are  found,  and  then  these  must  be  arranged  in  their 
true  and  only  natural  order.  This  Comte  accom- 
plished by  taking  as  the  criterion  of  the  position 
of  each  the  degree  of  what  he  called  "  positivity," 
which  is  simply  the  degree  to  which  the  phenomena 
can  be  exactly  determined.  This,  as  may  be  readily 
seen,  is  also  a  measure  of  their  relative  complexity, 
since  the  exactness  of  a  science  is  in  inverse  propor- 
tion to  its  complexity.  The  degree  of  exactness  or 
positivity  is,  moreover,  that  to  which  it  can  be  sub- 
jected to  mathematical  demonstration,  and  therefore 
mathematics,  which  is  not  itself  a  concrete  science, 
is  the  general  gauge  by  which  the  position  of  every 
science  is  to  be  determined.  Generalizing  thus, 
Comte  found  that  there  were  five  great  groups  of 
phenomena  of  equal  classificatory  value  but  of  suc- 
cessively decreasing  positivity.  To  these  he  gave 
the  names  astronomy,  physics,  chemistry,  biology, 
and  sociology.  A  glance  at  these  suffices  to  show 
that  they  conform  to  the  conditions  outlined  and 
that  they  must  stand  in  this  order.  To  complain, 
as  some  have  done,  that  many  well-recognized  sci- 
ences are  not  named  in  this  list  is  totally  to  mis- 
conceive the  object  of  the  classification.  The  con- 
ception is  a  great  and  grand  one,  and  before  it  all 


8  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  part  i 

captious  criticisms  must  yield  if  it  is  to  do  its 
proper  work.  But  really,  when  carefully  scanned, 
nearly  every  proper  science  can  be  assigned  its  nat- 
ural place  in  this  scheme.  For  my  own  part,  I 
should  add  one  to  the  number  of  these  great 
coordinate  sciences.  I  should  recognize  psychology 
as  such  and  place  it,  as  Spencer  has  done,  between 
biology  and  sociology.  Not  that  Comte  ignored  it, 
but  in  the  mighty  sweep  of  his  logic  he  made  it  a 
part  of  biology,  calling  it  "transcendental  biology." 
Much  has  been  said  about  the  relation  of  eco- 
nomics to  sociology,  and  some  have  gone  so  far  as 
to  regard  sociology  as  in  some  way  subordinate  to 
economics.  The  latter  is  simply  one  of  those  great 
fields  of  phenomena  which  lie  outside  the  lines  upon 
which  the  classification  is  based.  Not  that  it  is  not 
recognized  or  appreciated,  nor  that  it  does  not  have 
its  fixed  and  proper  place  in  the  scheme.  To  illus- 
trate this  we  can  best  consider  some  of  the  other 
and  less  complex  of  the  five  great  groups.  Take 
astronomy,  for  example.  It  might  be  asked  :  Where 
is  geology  or  geography  ?  They  do  not  appear  in 
the  series.  Are  they  ignored  or  omitted?  By  no 
means.  They  simply  belong  under  the  broad  con- 
ception of  astronomy.  The  earth  is  to  the  astron- 
omer simply  a  planet,  and  as  such  only  does  he 
study  it.  He  may  have  more  to  say  of  Jupiter  or 
Saturn.  This  illustrates  the  sweeping  character  of 
Comte's  generalization.  Those  who  raise  these  ob- 
jections do  not  grasp  it  in  its  true  magnitude.     And 


CHAP.  I  THE  PLACE    OF  SOCIOLOGY  9 

I  may  say  here,  parenthetically,  that  Comte  was 
typical  of  the  French  mind  in  general  when  at  its 
best.  There  is  no  greater  error  than  that  of  think- 
ing it  light  and  trivial.  I  have  heard  mathema- 
ticians, astronomers,  and  physicists  say  the  same  for 
these  great  departments  of  science.  Every  chemist, 
anatomist,  and  physiologist  must  be  acquainted  with 
French  thought  on  these  subjects.  It  was  Lamarck 
who  really  broke  the  way  to  the  new  biology  and 
gave  it  its  name.  Political  economy,  with  all  its 
merits  and  defects,  originated  with  the  physiocrats. 
In  the  very  word  altruism  Comte  laid  the  founda- 
tion of  a  scientific  ethics.  And  for  moral  power  in 
fiction  what  author  has  approached  Victor  Hugo? 
The  French  mind  penetrates  to  the  very  heart  of 
every  problem  it  attacks  and  is  not  deterred  by 
practical  obstacles.  It  has  thus  been  the  great 
organizer  of  human  thought,  leaving  the  details 
and  frictional  hindrances  to  the  German  and  Eng- 
lish schools.  France  has  furnished  the  warp  of 
science  and  philosophy,  other  nations  their  woof. 

What  has  been  said  of  astronomy  and  the  sciences 
that  fall  within  its  far-reaching  scope  is  also  true  of 
the  other  great  groups.  It  is  not  necessary  to  give 
illustrations  in  all,  but  biology  furnishes  some  that 
are  specially  instructive.  Biology  is  the  science  of 
life,  and  as  such  includes  all  that  has  life.  Its  prin- 
cipal branches  are  therefore  vegetal  and  animal  life. 
Yet  biology  is  neither  botany  nor  zoology,  nor  both 
combined.     These,  it  is  true,  fall  under  it,  but  only 


10  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  part  i 

in  the  same  sense  that  geology  and  geography  fall 
under  astronomy.  And  just  as  the  great  bulk  of 
geology  and  geography  is  not  astronomy  at  all,  so 
the  greater  part  of  both  botany  and  zoology  is  not 
biology  at  all.  This  principle  holds  of  all  truly 
logical  classification.  The  lower  terms  of  any 
system  of  generalization  always  contain  much  more 
than  the  next  higher.  They  stand  under  them,  but 
all  that  belongs  properly  to  them  as  lower  terms 
does  not  belong  to  the  higher  terms,  but  is  additional 
to  what  is  necessary  to  characterize  them.  This  is 
well  illustrated  in  both  botany  and  zoology  as  sys- 
tematic sciences.  All  classification  here  as  else- 
where is  what  is  called  synoptical.  In  arranging 
the  species  of  a  great  natural  order  they  are  always 
divided  into  first  large  and  then  progressively  smaller 
and  smaller  groups.  The  order  is  divided  into  coor- 
dinate families,  each  family  into  coordinate  genera, 
and  each  genus  into  species  which  are  also  coordi- 
nate. Usually  there  are  found  to  be  more  subdivi- 
sions than  these,  and  we  have  in  botany,  at  least, 
suborders,  subfamilies,  tribes,  subtribes,  and  subgen- 
era. Even  species  have  their  varieties,  and  in  some 
sciences,  particularly  in  ornithology,  these  are  called 
subspecies  and  have  a  special  significance.  What 
most  concerns  us  here  is  that  in  characterizing  these 
successively  lower  and  lower  groups,  when  scientifi- 
cally done,  none  of  the  characters  are  described  in  a 
lower  that  have  already  been  employed  to  mark  off 
the   next   higher  group.     All   the   characters  of  a 


CHAP.  I  THE  PLACE    OF  SOCIOLOGY  ir 

family  are  additional  to  those  of  the  order  to  which 
it  belongs,  all  those  of  a  genus  additional  to  those  of 
its  family,  and  all  those  of  a  species  additional  to 
those  of  its  genus.  In  correct  synoptical  work  there 
is  no  repetition  or  mixing  up  of  the  characters  be- 
longing to  these  respective  groups,  so  that  we  speak 
of  ordinal,  family,  generic,  and  specific  characters. 

All  this  may  at  first  sight  seem  irrelevant  to  the 
question  before  us,  but  natural  history  furnishes 
the  best  possible  example  of  the  primary  process  of 
the  mind  in  reasoning  uj)on  concrete  facts.  There 
is  a  certain  school  of  biologists  who  are  somewhat 
disposed  to  sneer  at  the  old-fashioned  study  of  syste- 
matic botany  and  zoology,  but  if  it  had  no  other 
clainivS,  it  could  be  defended  from  the  pedagogic 
standpoint  as  the  best  possible  discipline  of  the 
mind,  as  the  supreme  object  lesson  in  logic.  It  may 
sound  paradoxical  to  assert  that  the  study  of  living 
organisms  can  be  made  an  aid  in  grasping  the  ab- 
struse problems  of  metaphysics,  but  it  certainly  can 
do  this.  One  of  the  most  difficult  of  those  problems 
has  always  been  the  Platonic  idea,  and  few  students 
ever  readily  grasp  it.  Yet  every  one  of  these  groups 
in  natural  history  classification  to  which  I  have 
referred  is  nothing  more  nor  less  than  a  Platonic 
idea.  A  species,  a  genus,  a  family,  an  order,  a  class 
or  a  kingdom  is  this  and  nothing  else,  and  every 
schoolgirl  who  has  analyzed  a  flower  has,  unknown 
to  herself  and  without  mental  effort,  obtained  a  clear 
conception  of  what  constitutes  the  Platonic  idea. 


12  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  PART  1 

We  come  then  to  the  last  and  highest  of  the 
sciences,  viz.,  sociology,  and  what  has  been  said  is 
calculated  to  prepare  us  to  understand  the  true 
scope  of  that  science.  This  is  specially  important 
because  there  exists  considerable  confusion  upon 
this  point.  The  greatest  difficulty  has  been  that  of 
distinguishing  it  from  political  economy  or  eco- 
nomics. It  has  naturally  happened  that  it  fell  to 
teachers  of  that  science  to  take  up  sociology  also 
and  give  instructions  in  that,  and  from  the  long 
recognition  of  economics  as  a  necessary  branch  of 
learning  and  the  recent  appearance  of  sociology  upon 
the  scene  it  has  been  concluded  by  some  that  this 
young  aspirant  for  a  place  in  the  curriculum  must 
necessarily  be  some  subordinate  outgrowth  of  the 
older  science.  But  from  the  considerations  already 
set  forth  it  is  obvious  that  this  is  an  erroneous  view. 
Comte's  conception  is  of  course  widely  different,  as 
he  makes  it  one  of  the  great  coordinate  groups  of  his 
so-called  hierarchy,  and  as  such  to  embrace  every- 
thing that  pertains  to  man  as  a  social  being.  But 
before  considering  this  claim  let  us  examine  the 
views  of  one  of  the  foremost  political  economists  of 
the  world,  Mr.  John  Stuart  Mill,  and  this  at  a  date 
anterior  to  the  publication  of  Comte's  name  or  his 
method.  Mill  saw  that  there  was  a  great  science 
of  society  as  yet  unnamed  and  undefined,  and  in 
striving  after  these  two  ends  he  used  the  three 
expressions  :  "  social  economy,"  "  speculative  poli- 
tics," and  "the  science  of  politics,"  and  then  pro- 


CHAP.  I  THE  PLACE    OF  SOCIOLOGY  13 

ceeded  to  define  the  scope  of  this  great  science  as 
follows  :  — 

This  science  stands  in  the  same  relation  to  the  social, 
as  anatomy  and  physiology  to  tlie  physical  body.  It 
shows  by  what  principles  of  liis  nature  man  is  induced 
to  enter  into  a  state  of  society  ;  how  this  feature  of  his 
position  acts  upon  his  interests  and  feelings,  and  through 
them  upon  his  conduct ;  how  the  association  tends  pro- 
gressively to  become  closer,  and  the  cooperation  extends 
itself  to  more  and  more  purposes ;  what  those  purposes 
are,  and  what  the  varieties  of  means  most  generally 
adopted  for  furthering  them  ;  what  are  the  various  rela- 
tions which  establish  themselves  among  men  as  the  ordi- 
nary consequence  of  the  social  union;  what  those  which 
are  different  in  different  states  of  society ;  and  what  are 
the  effects  of  each  upon  the  conduct  and  character  of 
man.^ 

Not  content  with  thus  broadly  outlining  a  science 
to  which  he  would  liave  undoubtedly  applied  the 
name  sociology  if  Comte  or  any  one  else  had  at  that 
date  suggested  it,  he  proceeds  to  show  how  this 
science  differs  from  that  of  political  economy,  and  in 
these  terms  :  — 

"  Political  Economy  "  is  not  the  science  of  speculative 
politics,  but  a  branch  of  that  science.  It  does  not  treat 
of  the  whole  of  man's  nature  as  modified  by  the  social 

ij.  S.  Mill,  "On  the  definition  of  Political  Economy;  and  on 
the  Method  of  Philosophical  Investigation  in  that  Science,"  Lon- 
don and  Westminster  Review,  Vol.  XXVI.,  October,  1836,  p.  11. 
Reprinted  with  slight  modifications  a.s  the  fifth  of  his  Essays  on 
Some  Unsettled  Questions  0/  Political  Economy,  1844,  p.  135. 


14  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  part  l 

state,  nor  of  the  wliole  conduct  of  man  in  society.  It  is 
concerned  with  liim  solely  as  a  being  who  desires  to 
possess  wealth,  and  who  is  capable  of  judging  of  the 
comparative  efficacy  of  means  of  obtaining  that  end.  It 
predicts  only  such  of  the  phenomena  of  the  social  state 
as  take  place  in  consequence  of  the  pursuit  of  wealth. 
It  makes  entire  abstraction  of  every  other  human  passion 
or  motive  except  those  which  may  be  regarded  as  per- 
petually antagonizing  principles  to  the  desire  of  wealth, 
namely,  aversion  to  labor,  and  desire  of  the  present 
enjoyment  of  costly  indulgences.  .  .  .  Political  Econ- 
omy considers  mankind  as  occupied  solely  in  acquiring 
and  consuming  wealth ;  and  aims  at  showing  what  is  the 
course  of  action  into  which  mankind,  living  in  a  state  of 
society,  would  be  impelled,  if  that  motive,  except  in  the 
degree  in  which  it  is  checked  by  the  two  perpetual  coun- 
ter motives  above  adverted  to,  were  absolute  ruler  of 
their  actions.^ 

Although  it  is  the  old  abstract  political  economy 
which  is  here  described,  and  although  the  modern 
economics  is  much  broader  in  its  scope  and  rests 
to  a  far  greater  extent  upon  the  observed  facts  of 
human  life  and  action,  still  it  remains  true  that  the 
two  sciences  here  so  clearly  marked  off  from  each 
other  by  Mill  are  distinguished  in  substantially  the 
way  he  shows  them  to  be.  The  distinction  is  not 
essentially  different  from  that  between  biology  as 
now  universally  understood  and  taught  and  botany 
or  zoology.  It  is  a  distinction  of  position  in  a 
scheme  of  classification.      Rigidly  construed,  while 

iMill,  loc.  cit.,  p.  12. 


CHAP.  I  THE  PLACE    OF  SOCIOLOGY  1 5 

the  whole  of  the  latter  falls  under  the  former, 
nothing  that  is  distinctively  botanical  or  zoological 
should  be  called  biology.  And  in  the  same  way, 
while  economics  belongs  within  the  great  field  of 
sociology,  there  should  be  no  confusion  or  overlap- 
ping in  speaking  of  these  sciences  or  in  teaching 
them,  so  that  nothing  that  clearly  belongs  to  econom- 
ics should  be  treated  as  sociology.  While  in  so  com- 
plex a  field  of  phenomena  it  may  be  difficult  in 
practice  to  draw  the  distinction  thus  definitely  and 
always  maintain  it,  this  should  be  the  constant  aim 
and  ideal  both  of  the  teacher  and  the  social  philoso- 
pher. If  this  is  done,  there  will  be  no  such  thing 
possible  as  a  conflict  between  them,  or  of  the  cul- 
tivators of  one  of  these  sciences  encroaching  upon 
the  domain  of  the  other.  In  some  of  the  simpler 
sciences  this  complete  separation  of  the  superior 
from  the  subordinate  fields  is  less  difficult.  In 
astronomy,  for  example,  it  is  easy.  Who  ever  heard 
of  a  geologist  complaining  that  the  astronomers  were 
encroaching  upon  his  domain?  With. the  degree  of 
complexity,  however,  the  clearness  of  these  distinc- 
tions diminishes  in  the  maze  of  special  details,  until 
when  the  field  of  social  action  is  reached  it  requires 
a  skilled  pilot  to  keep  the  thought-laden  craft  safely 
within  the  true  channel  of  logical  consistency.  Yet 
the  course  exists  as  definitely  in  the  one  case  as  in  the 
other,  and  it  must  be  found  and  followed  before 
the  present  confusion  can  be  cleared  up.  It  has 
been  ray  purpose  thus  far  simply  to  indicate  that 


1 6  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  PART  i 

course  and  to  show  what  I  conceive  the  science  of 
sociology  to  be  as  distinguished  from  all  those 
special  sciences  which,  indeed,  fall  within  its  general 
purview,  but  which  are  entitled  to  be  cultivated, 
and  have  been  cultivated,  as  sciences.  I  have  taken 
economics  as  an  example  because  it  seems  to  be  most 
prone  to  overflow  into  the  broader  field,  and  because 
it  is  out  of  this  department  that  sociologists  are  now 
being  chiefly  recruited.  But  there  are  many  other 
sciences  or  branches  of  learning  that  occupy  prac- 
tically the  same  relative  position.  It  is  here  that 
history  stands,  while  ethnology,  ethnography,  and 
demography,  with  other  attendant  branches  of  an- 
thropology, bear  so  strongly  upon  the  great  science 
of  man  in  the  social  state  that  it  is  difficult  to  pre- 
vent them  from  forcing  their  way  into  it.  And 
each  of  these  has  its  specialized  phenomena  to  be 
set  aside  and  cultivated  as  separate  departments  or 
sciences.  Reverting  to  a  former  illustration,  we 
may  regard  sociology  as  one  of  the  great  natural 
orders  of  cosmical  phenomena  under  which  we  may 
range  the  next  most  general  departments  as  so  many 
genera,  each  with  its  appropriate  species.  That  is, 
the  classification  of  the  sciences  may  be  made  strictly 
synoptical.  When  this  is  done  it  will  be  possible 
for  philosophers,  like  good  systematists,  to  avoid 
making  their  ordinal  characters  include  any  prop- 
erly generic  ones,  or  their  generic  characters  include 
any  that  are  only  specific. 

Thus  understood,  sociology  is  freed  from  the  un- 


CHAP.  I  THE  PLACE    OF  SOCIOLOGY  I J 

necessary  embarrassment  of  having  hanging  about 
it  in  more  or  less  disorder  a  burden  of  complicated 
details  in  a  great  variety  of  attitudes  which  make  it 
next  to  impossible  to  secure  due  attention  to  the 
fundamental  principles  of  so  vast  a  science.  These 
details  are  classified  and  assigned  each  to  its  proper 
place  (genus  or  species),  and  tlie  field  is  cleared  for 
the  calm  contemplation  of  the  central  problem  of 
determining  the  facts,  the  law,  and  the  principles  of 
human  association. 

I  would  not  have  it  inferred  from  the  high  sys- 
tematic rank  thus  given  to  sociology  that  the  logical 
order  in  which  the  entire  scheme  is  to  be  taken  up 
and  studied  or  taught  is  to  begin  with  the  highest 
or  ordinal  principles  and  end  with  the  lowest  or 
specific  ones.  Quite  the  contrary.  Sociology  is  an 
advanced  study,  the  last  and  latest  in  the  entire  cur- 
riculum. It  should  perhaps  be  mainly  postgraduate. 
It  involves  high  powers  of  generalization,  and  what 
is  more,  it  absolutely  requires  a  broad  basis  of  in- 
duction. It  is  largely  a  philosophy,,  and  in  these 
days  philosophy  no  longer  rests  on  assumptions,  but 
on  facts.  To  understand  the  laws  of  society  the 
mind  must  be  in  possession  of  a  large  body  of 
knowledge.  This  knowledge  should  not  be  picked 
up  here  and  there  at  random,  but  should  be  instilled 
in  a  methodical  way.  It  should  be  fed  to  the  mind 
with  an  intelligent  purpose  in  view,  and  that  pur- 
pose should  be  the  preparation  of  the  mind  for 
ultimately  entering  the  last  and  most   difficult   as 


1 8  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  part  t 

well  as  most  important  field  of  human  thought,  that 
of  sociology.  Therefore  history,  political  economy, 
and  the  other  generic  branches  should  first  be  prose- 
cuted as  constituting  the  necessary  preparation  for 
the  study  of  the  higher  ordinal  principles. 

And  apropos  of  this  purely  pedagogic  question, 
let  me  emphasize  another  principle  which  we  also 
owe  to  Comte.  I  have  called  his  system  a  natural 
system,  and  I  use  that  term  in  the  same  sense  here 
as  when,  as  a  botanist,  I  speak  of  the  natural  sys- 
tem of  plants.  The  order  is  the  order  of  nature  and 
not  of  man,  and  the  several  sciences  not  only  stand 
naturally  in  this  order  but  are  genetically  affiliated 
upon  one  another  in  this  order.  That  is,  each  of 
the  five  great  natural  groups  rests  upon  the  one 
immediately  below  it  and  grows  out  of  it,  as  it 
were.  From  this  it  necessarily  results  that  this  is 
the  true  order  in  which  they  should  be  studied, 
since  the  study  of  each  furnishes  the  mind  with 
the  proper  data  for  understanding  the  next  higher. 
The  student,  therefore,  who  advances  in  this  order 
is  approaching  the  goal  of  his  ambition  by  two  dis- 
tinct routes  which  converge  at  the  desired  stage. 
He  is  laying  the  foundation  for  the  understanding 
of  the  more  complex  sciences  by  acquainting  himself 
with  the  simpler  ones  upon  which  they  successively 
rest,  and  he  is  at  the  same  time  mounting  upward 
in  the  scale  of  generalization  from  the  specific  and 
generic  to  the  ordinal  or  higher  groups  in  a  sys- 
tematic classification.     The  natural  arrangement  of 


CHAP.  I  THE  PLACE    OF  SOCIOLOGY  1 9 

the  great  coordinate  groups  is  serial  and  genetic. 
The  term  "  hierarchy  "  applied  to  it  by  Comte  is  in- 
appropriate, since  there  is  no  subordination,  but  sim- 
ply degrees  of  generality  and  complexity.  There  is 
genetic  aiifiliation  without  subordination.  The  more 
complex  and  less  exact  sciences  may  be  regarded  as 
the  children  of  the  more  simple  and  exact  ones,  but 
between  parent  and  offspring  there  is  no  difference 
of  rank.  In  contrast  with  this,  the  other  classifi- 
cation, which  I  have  called  synoptical,  is  a  true 
hierarchy,  such  as  was  taught  to  exist  among  the 
angels.  It  will  be  easier  to  comprehend  if  we  liken 
it  to  the  system  of  ranking  that  prevails  in  an 
army.  The  two  kinds  of  classification  are  entirely 
different  in  principle,  and  the  last  named  occurs 
independently  in  each  of  the  great  serial  groups. 

Now  the  pedagogic  principle  alluded  to  is  that 
none  of  the  more  complex  and  less  exact  sciences 
can  be  properly  understood  until  after  all  the  sim- 
pler and  more  exact  ones  below  it  have  first  been 
acquired.  What  Comte  insisted  upon  was  that  no 
one  was  competent  to  treat  the  higher  sciences  who 
was  ignorant  of  the  lower,  and  the  same  would  of 
course  be  true  of  teaching.  But  the  important  qual- 
ification should  be  made  that  this  canon  does  not 
imply  a  mastery  of  the  details  of  these  sciences, 
but  only  a  comprehensive  grasp  of  their  principles. 
Thus  qualified  I  believe  it  to  be  sound,  and  it  is 
very  important  to  set  it  forth  at  such  a  time  as 
this  when  mathematicians,  astronomers,  and  physi- 


20  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  part  i 

cists,  having  no  acquaintance  with  biology,  psychol- 
ogy, or  sociology,  are  setting  themselves  up,  on  the 
strength  of  their  reputation  in  the  simpler  fields, 
as  authorities  on  economics  and  social  and  political 
science.  And  not  less  forcibly  is  the  truth  of  this 
principle  exemplified  in  those  economists  who  almost 
boast  that  they  know  nothing  of  biology  and  the 
other  great  sciences  from  which  the  broadest  prin- 
ciples of  their  own  department  are  derived. 

We  see,  then,  the  high  place  which  sociology, 
properly  defined,  should  hold  among  the  sciences, 
and  how  clear  and  incisive  are  the  boundaries  which 
mark  it  off  from  all  other  branches  of  learning. 
It  is  the  cap-sheaf  and  crown  of  any  true  system 
of  classification  of  the  sciences,  and  it  is  also  the 
last  and  highest  landing  on  the  great  staircase  of 
education. 


CHAPTER  II 

RELATION  OF   SOCIOLOGY  TO   COSMOLOGY  i 

This  is  not  a  "chance  world,"  but  a  world  of  law. 
Both  science  and  philosophy  teach  that  every  fact 
and  every  phenomenon  is  indissolubly  linked  to  every 
other  and  that  change  is  the  result  of  some  antecedent 
change  and  the  occasion  of  some  subsequent  change. 
Any  conceivable  fact  or  thing  may  therefore  be  re- 
garded as  a  term  in  a  series  which  is  infinite  in 
both  directions.  In  science  this  is  called  the  law 
of  causation ;  in  philosophy  it  is  called  the  law  of 
the  sufficient  reason. 

A  feeble  and  imperfect  recognition  of  this  law 
has  led  many  minds  to  a  very  erroneous  conclusion, 
a  conclusion  which  is,  if  possible,  worse  in  its  prac- 
tical effect  upon  human  thought  and  action  than 
would  have  been  the  belief  in  a  purely  chance 
world.  It  has  led  to  a  false  idea  of  the  relation  of 
man  to  the  universe.  Indeed  it  is  responsible  for 
the  two  false  theories  which  have  most  retarded 
the  true  progress  of  mankind,  viz.,  optimism  and 
pessimism. 

Man  is  correctly  to  be  regarded   as  simply  one 

1  Ameriran  Journal  of  Sociology,  Vol.  I.,  No.  2,  Chicago,  Sep- 
tember, 18'J5,  pp.  132-145, 


22  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  part  i 

of  the  terms  in  the  great  cosmical  series,  the  product 
of  antecedent  causes  and  the  cause  of  subsequent 
effects,  and  until  he  is  so  understood  the  true  rela- 
tion either  of  man  to  the  universe  or  of  sociology 
to  cosmology  cannot  be  correctly  known.  Man's 
place  in  the  organic  series  will  be  the  subject  of 
the  next  chapter.  The  more  general  question  only 
of  his  relation  to  the  world  at  large  can  be  con- 
sidered here.  The  first  important  fact  to  be  noted 
is  that  to  his  slowly  developing  intellect  the  uni- 
verse has  ever  been  a  great  enigma.  To  solve  this 
enigma  has  been  the  universal  problem  of  the 
human  mind.  But  man  has  been  put  into  posses- 
sion of  no  key  to  this  solution  and  has  attacked  the 
problem  wildly  and  at  random,  utterly  unqualified 
to  make  the  least  impression  upon  it.  The  book  of 
nature  which  was  open  to  him  was  but  a  collection 
of  Sibylline  leaves  that  had  been  first  stirred  by 
the  wind.  Not  only  were  things  not  always  as 
they  seemed,  but  outside  of  the  very  simplest 
phenomena,  everything  was  utterly  different  from 
what  it  seemed.  Almost  everything  was  really  just 
the  reverse  of  what  it  seemed,  and  the  universe 
was  a  vast  paradox.  The  sky  seemed  to  be  a  great 
vault  of  solid  matter  which  he  called  for  this  reason 
a  "firmament."  The  heavenly  bodies  seemed  to 
move  across  this  vault  at  varying  rates,  and  their 
reappearance  led  to  the  notion  that  they  revolved 
around  the  great  level  cake  of  earth  and  water  on 
which  he  dwelt.     The  invisible  air  and  other  gases 


CHAP.  II  SOCIOLOGY  AND    COSMOLOGY  23 

were  likened  to  mind  or  spirit.  All  natural  causes 
were  explained  after  the  analogy  of  human  effort 
in  the  intentional  production  of  effects,  and  the 
earth  and  air  were  peopled  with  invisible  and  often 
malignant  spirits  as  the  only  recognized  agents. 
And  thus  were  built  up  great  systems  of  magic, 
superstition,  and  mythology.  The  errors  thus  forced 
into  man's  mind  came  to  receive  the  sanction  of 
religion  which  rendered  it  vastly  more  difficult  to 
dislodge  them.  This  herculean  task  has  been  the 
mission  of  science,  for  the  truth  lies  deeply  buried 
under  this  mass  of  error  at  the  surface  and  can  only 
be  brought  to  light  by  the  most  prolonged  and 
patient  research  in  the  face  of  this  time-honored 
prejudice.  The  progress  of  man  and  society  has 
been  strictly  proportioned  to  the  degree  to  which 
hidden  realities  have  thus  been  substituted  for  false 
appearances. 

As  a  somewhat  anomalous  but  very  important 
example  of  the  erroneous  ideas  which  the  human 
race  must  needs  acquire  and  reluctantly  surrenders 
may  next  be  considered  the  optimistic  habit  of 
thought.  Optimism  can  scarcely  be  called  a  doc- 
trine. It  does  not  result,  like  most  erroneous 
beliefs,  from  a  false  interpretation  of  the  facts 
which  nature  presents  to  the  untrained  faculties. 
It  is  rather  the  original,  unreflective  state  of  the 
pre-social  mind.  It  is  the  survival  of  the  most 
useful  of  all  instincts,  that  of  self-preservation.  It 
was  well  adapted  to  that  state,  because  to  the  ani- 


24  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  PART  I 

mal  it  mattered  not  whether  it  was  true  or  false. 
It  is  still  a  useful  attitude  to  the  swarming  millions 
of  human  beings  who  do  not  reflect.  But  for  it  the 
realization  of  their  unhappy  lot,  which  it  prevents, 
would  multiply  their  misery  and  render  life  intol- 
erable. But  we  are  here  considering  its  effect  upon 
society,  and  it  is  easy  to  show  that  it  is  bad.  It 
breeds  stagnation  and  stifles  progress.  It  yields 
contentment,  and  contentment  means  inaction. 
Strange  as  it  may  sound,  just  as  the  only  healthy 
state  of  the  intellect  is  doubt,  so  the  only  healthy 
state  of  the  feelings  is  discontent.  This  of  course 
assumes  that  there  is  something  to  doubt  and  some- 
thing to  improve,  but  there  has  never  been  an  age 
when  error  did  not  stalk  abroad  or  when  misery  was 
not  the  lot  of  the  greater  part  of  mankind. 

The  phase  of  optimism  which  most  concerns  the 
question  of  the  relation  of  society  to  the  universe  is 
that  unreasoned  belief  which  I  have  called  the 
"  anthropocentric  theory."  ^  The  idea  that  man  is 
in  any  sense  a  favorite  of  nature  is  false  and  highly 
prejudicial  to  the  progress  of  correct  conceptions 
in  social  science.  It  may  be  called  collective  opti- 
mism, and  results  in  social  stagnation,  just  as  per- 
sonal optimism  results  in  individual  stagnation. 

The  extreme  opposite  of  optimism  is  pessimism. 
It  differs  from  it  as  much  in  its  origin  and  nature  as 

1  Transactions  of  the  Anthropological  Society  of  Washington, 
Vol.  I.,  Washington,  1882,  pp.  93-103 ;  Dynamic  Sociology,  Vol. 
II.,  New  York,  1883,  pp.  50-73. 


CHAP,  n  so CIOL OGY  AND   COSMOL OGY  2$ 

it  does  in  its  character  as  a  belief.  While  optimism 
is  wholly  unreasoned  and  springs  from  the  feelings, 
pessimism  is  exclusively  a  product  of  reason  and 
resides  in  the  intellect.  Optimism  is  that  hope  that 
"  springs  eternal  in  the  human  breast "  and  defies 
the  hard  facts  of  existence.  Pessimism  recognizes 
the  facts  and  coldly  chokes  every  hope  at  its  birth. 
But  pessimism  is  also  false,  first  because  many  hopes 
are  realized,  and  secondly,  because  the  representation 
in  the  present  of  the  good  anticipated  in  the  future 
is  itself  a  good  at  least  of  secondary  order. 

What  then  is  man's  true  relation  to  the  universe  ? 
Is  there  a  true  mental  attitude  that  lies  between 
these  two  false  attitudes  ?  There  certainly  is.  It 
is  not  a  ])elief  or  a  creed  ;  it  is  the  simple  recognition 
of  the  truth.  The  truth  is  that  nature  is  neither 
friendly  nor  hostile  to  man  ;  neither  favors  him  nor 
discriminates  against  him.  Nature  is  not  endowed 
with  any  moral  attributes.  It  is,  as  I  said  at  the 
outset,  a  domain  of  rigid  law.  Man  is  a  product  of 
that  law,  but  he  has  reached  a  stage  on  which  he  can 
comprehend  the  law.  Now,  just  because  nature  is  a 
domain  of  rigid  law,  and  just  because  man  can  com- 
prehend that  law,  his  destin}^  is  in  his  own  hands. 
Any  law  that  he  can  comprehend  he  can  control. 
He  cannot  increase  or  diminish  the  powers  of  nature, 
but  he  can  direct  them.  He  can  increase  or  dimin- 
ish the  amount  of  power  that  is  to  be  exerted  at  any 
given  point.  He  can  focalize  the  rays  of  the  sun  ; 
he  can  divert  the  courses  of  the  rivers  ;  he  can  direct 


26  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  part  I 

the  currents  of  the  air  ;  he  can  vary  temperatures  ; 
he  can  change  water  to  steam  and  set  the  steam  to 
work  in  propelling  machinery  or  ships  or  railroad 
trains  ;  he  can  utilize  electricity.  His  power  over 
nature  is  unlimited.  He  can  make  it  his  servant 
and  appropriate  to  his  own  use  all  the  mighty  forces 
of  the  universe. 

Both  optimism  and  pessimism  are  passive  states  of 
mind.  The  true  state  is  an  active  one.  Optimism 
and  pessimism  assume  nature  to  be  in  an  active  state 
toward  man.  The  true  attitude  makes  nature  passive 
and  man  active.  To  the  developed  intellect  nature 
is  as  clay  in  the  potter's  hands.  It  is  neither  best 
nor  worst.  It  is  what  man  makes  it,  and  rational 
man  always  seeks  to  make  it  better.  The  true 
doctrine,  then,  is  meliorism  — ^the  perpetual  bettering 
of  man's  estate.  This  will  be  possible  in  precise 
proportion  to  man's  knowledge  of  nature,  so  that  the 
condition  of  the  race  ultimately  depends  upon  the 
degree  of  intelligence  that  it  shall  attain. 

Optimism  may  be  said  to  be  the  thesis,  pessimism 
the  antithesis,  and  meliorism  the  synthesis  of  man's 
relation  to  the  universe.  The  optimist  says :  Do 
nothing,  because  there  is  nothing  to  do.  The 
pessimist  says  :  Do  nothing,  because  nothing  can  be 
done.  The  meliorist  says  :  Do  something,  because 
there  is  much  to  do,  and  it  can  be  done. 

Man  alone  can  block  the  wheels  of  his  own  prog- 
ress. Neither  optimism  nor  pessimism  can  be  justi- 
fied in  a  state  of  society  where  free  play  is  allowed 


CHAi'.  II  SOCIOLOGY  AND    COSMOLOGY  27 

to  all  the  human  faculties.  For  a  race  whose  intel- 
lect is  fully  matured  these  mental  attitudes  are  only 
adapted  to  a  condition  of  profound  ignorance  of  the 
laws  of  nature,  or  of  complete  subjugation  of  the 
masses  to  the  power  of  the  few.  Now,  it  is  a  his- 
torical fact  that  these  two  habits  of  thought  have, 
in  the  elite  of  mankind,  only  prevailed  under  one 
or  the  other  or  both  of  these  conditions.  Optimism 
is  preeminently  the  child  of  ignorance.  By  igno- 
rance I  mean  solely  the  absence  of  knowledge  rela- 
tive to  natural  things,  processes,  and  laws,  and  not 
lack  of  capacity  to  know  these  things  and  profit  by 
such  knowledge.  Pessimism  is  more  especially  a 
product  of  social  oppression.  It  results  from  an 
abandonment  of  all  hope  of  relief  from  the  power 
of  a  superior  caste  of  men  to  keep  the  mass  in  physi- 
cal subjection.  In  a  word,  pessimism  is  the  product 
of  a  hostile  social  state. 

It  is  impossible  to  separate  this  aspect  of  the 
question  from  the  great  fact  that  the  world  has 
always  been  swayed  by  religion.  The  foregoing 
considerations  furnish  an  excellent  basis  for  com- 
paring the  great  religions  that  have  embraced  the 
greater  part  of  the  human  race.  Religion  is  reason 
applied  to  life.  Those  who  flippantly  contend  that  a 
religious  condition  argues  feeble  intellectual  powers 
make  an  immense  mistake.  But  this  view  is  by  no 
means  confined  to  the  opponents  of  religion.  It  is 
clearly  implied  or  openly  expressed  by  many  who 
strongly  defend  it.     The  latest  of  this  class  of  phi- 


28  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  part  l 

losophers  is  perhaps  Mr.  Benjamin  Kidd.  In  his 
Social  Evolution  he  makes  religion  the  mainspring  of 
human  progress  and  charges  the  reason  with  anti- 
social and  anti-progressive  tendencies.  Whatever 
there  may  be  true  in  his  book,  and  its  tone  is  gen- 
erally healthy,  it  is  not  true,  as  he  maintains,  that 
religion  and  reason  are  opposed,  or  that  religion 
proceeds  from  an  unreasoning,  or,  as  he  expresses  it, 
an  "ultra-rational"  sanction.  Religion  is  rational 
through  and  through.  It  is  not  to  be  compared  to 
an  instinct,  such  as  both  animals  and  men  possess, 
adapted  to  produce  such  automatic  activities  as  re- 
sult in  the  safety  and  healthy  development  of  races. 
On  the  contrary,  it  often  and  usually  impels  man 
to  do  just  those  things  which  his  instincts  and  his 
natural  propensities  would  never  dictate.  It  coun- 
teracts the  animal  nature  of  man,  and  is  one  of 
those  things  which  distinctively  mark  him  off  from 
the  animal  world.  It  could  be  easily  shown  that 
this  is  precisely  the  role  that  reason  plays  every- 
where, and  it  is  the  failure  to  perceive  this  that 
has  led  many  political  economists  and  others  into 
the  gravest  of  errors  in  philosophizing  about  man. 

Religion  has  its  very  origin  in  reason.  No  ani- 
mal has  developed  even  the  rudiments  of  a  religion. 
It  is  an  exclusively  human  institution,  much  more 
so  than  society.  It  is  the  product  of  thought ;  an 
attempt  to  explain  the  universe.  In  this,  its  pri- 
mary quality,  it  does  not  differ  in  the  least  from 
science,   and   no   true   philosopher   can   doubt   that 


CHAP.  II  SOCIOLOGY  AND    COSMOLOGY  29 

these  two  great  human  movements,  starting  out 
from  the  same  base,  will  eventually  arrive  at  the 
same  goal. 

Now,  of  the  two  great  religions  of  the  world, 
using  the  term  in  its  broadest  sense  and  ignoring 
entirely  the  subdivision  into  sects,  that  of  the  East 
and  that  of  the  West,  in  the  modern  use  of  those 
terms,  the  former  is  pessimistic ;  the  latter  opti- 
mistic. This  is  because,  while  both  were  perhaps 
equally  ignorant  of  the  laws  of  nature,  the  inhab- 
itants of  India  exercised  their  intellectual  powers 
far  more  than  did  the  peoples  of  western  Asia  and 
southern  Europe.  It  is  also  probably  true  that  the 
conditions  of  existence  for  the  masses  of  India  under 
a  system  of  castes  were  much  less  favorable  than 
those  of  western  peoples.  For  these  and  other 
reasons  religion  in  the  East  resulted  in  pessimism 
while  in  the  West  it  took  the  form  of  optimism. 
The  Orientals  sought  to  escape  the  evils  of  life  in 
Nirvana,  which,  however  much  scholars  may  dispute 
about  its  exact  meaning,  is  certainly  a  wholly  nega- 
tive state.  Christians  and  Mohammedans,  on  the 
other  hand,  espoused  the  doctrine  of  immortality, 
which  is  a  doctrine  of  hope  and  promises  a  state 
which  is  intensely  positive.  With  their  belief  in  an 
ultimate  righteous  retribution  they  were  able  to  bear 
their  temporal  ills  with  fortitude  and  to  enjoy  what- 
ever good  this  world  had  in  store  for  them.  Yet 
because  it  is  in  the  West  that  the  great  civilization 
of  the  world  at  last  came  forth  it  will  not  do  to  argue 


30  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  PART  I 

that  this  was  the  result  of  an  optimistic  religion. 
Scarcely  a  sign  of  this  was  perceptible  during  the 
first  fourteen  centuries  of  the  Christian  era,  and  the 
whole  of  it  has  been  the  product  of  the  last  five 
centuries.  Civilization  as  we  now  understand  it 
is  altogether  due  to  the  abandonment  of  the  opti- 
mistic attitude  which  prevailed  before  the  Protes- 
tant Reformation,  and  the  adoption  of  the  spirit  of 
meliorism,  to  which  Protestantism  was  more  favora- 
ble. In  fact,  the  Reformation  is  rather  the  product 
than  the  cause  of  a  growing  meliorism,  and  as  soon 
as  liberty  of  opinion  and  freedom  to  investigate  the 
laws  of  nature  were  achieved  the  march  of  civilization 
had  already  begun. 

We  are  now  prepared  to  consider  the  true  rela- 
tion that  developed  man  in  the  social  state  bears 
to  the  great  cosmos  of  which  he  is  a  part.  That 
cosmos,  as  we  have  seen,  must  be  contemplated  as 
wholly  unintelligent  and  wholly  passive.  Man  must 
regard  himself  as  in  full  possession  of  the  authority 
to  subjugate  it  and  to  appropriate  it,  to  reduce  all 
the  powers  of  nature  to  his  service  and  to  apply  all 
the  materials  of  the  universe  to  his  own  personal 
use.  Notwithstanding  the  rigid  law  to  which  all 
things  are  subject,  he  is  to  look  upon  the  universe 
as  in  a  certain  sense  fortuitous.  While  there  is 
a  cause  for  all  things  there  is  no  intelligent  reason 
why  anything  should  be  as  it  is.  That  this  little 
planet  of  ours  happens  to  be  peopled  with  life  is 
merely  an  accident,  or   rather   the   convergence   of 


CHAP.  11  SOCIOLOGY  AND    COSMOLOGY  3I 

a  number  of  accidents.  So  far  as  can  be  judged 
from  what  we  know  of  the  essential  conditions  to 
life,  the  earth  is  highly  favored  among  the  planets 
of  our  system,  and  it  may  well  be  that  this  is  the 
only  one  out  of  them  all  on  which  the  conditions 
to  a  high  development  exist.  It  seems  impossible 
that  the  great  planets  Jupiter  and  Saturn  can  be 
inhabited  by  any  such  beings  as  have  been  devel- 
oped on  our  globe ;  and  careful  studies  of  tempera- 
tures that  must  prevail  on  Venus  and  Mercury 
seem  to  negative  such  an  assumption  for  either  of 
them.  If  Mars  possesses  life,  it  must  be  inured  to 
somewhat  severer  conditions  than  generally  prevail 
with  us,  but  it  is  admitted  that  these  do  not 
exclude  the  idea.  If  Jupiter  radiates  his  own  in- 
ternal heat,  he  may  render  some  of  his  swift-flying 
moons  inhabitable,  but  most  of  the  satellites  of  the 
solar  system  are  doubtless  as  dead  as  our  moon, 
which  has  neither  water  nor  air.  The  sun  is  an 
enormous  mass  of  matter  1,400,000  times  as  large 
as  the  earth  and  containing  99.866  per  cent  of  the 
matter  of  the  whole  solar  system.  Yet  it  is  known 
to  be  in  a  state  of  such  intense  heat  that  some  of 
the  metals  which  it  requires  great  heat  even  to 
melt  are  not  only  melted  but  volatilized.  No  one 
therefore  conceives  that  there  can  be  any  life  or 
intelligence  on  the  sun.  Think  of  the  optimism 
that  is  required  to  make  out  a  favorable  case  from 
such  facts !  Even  if  all  parts  of  all  the  planets 
were   inhabited,  they   would    together    make    only 


32  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  PART  I 

-^^  part  of  the  area  of  the  sun's  surface,  while  that 
of  the  earth  alone  is  only  i2"rs"2*  ^^*  ®^^  ^^^^  ^^ 
only  one  of  the  lesser  jQxed  stars,  and  it  may  be 
assumed  that  similar  conditions  prevail  throughout 
the  universe. 

If  we  contemplate  the  earth  itself,  we  find  an 
analogous  state  of  things.  The  period  that  man 
has  inhabited  the  earth  is  very  small  compared 
with  what  we  know  its  age  to  be.  We  can  scarcely 
speak  more  than  relatively,  but  the  certainty  is  as 
great  as  if  we  could  fix  dates  for  geologic  events. 
Of  the  enormous  thickness  (150,000  feet)  of  sedi- 
mentary rocks  that  can  be  measured  from  the 
earliest  Archean  to  the  latest  Pleistocene  those 
that  have  been  deposited  since  man  made  his  ap- 
pearance form  only  a  minute  fraction.  In  quite 
recent  times  some  attempts  have  been  made  to 
determine  approximately  in  years  the  age  of  the 
earth.  The  results  vary  greatly,  but  are  constantly 
growing  more  uniform.  The  physicists,  astron- 
omers, and  geologists,  who  all  use  widely  differ- 
ent data  and  methods,  and  who  formerly  differed 
greatly,  have  latterly  come  to  a  much  closer  agree- 
ment, which  argues  some  approach  to  the  truth. 
Using  the  most  moderate  ones,  the  crust  of  the 
earth  seems  to  have  been  fully  formed  not  less 
than  100,000,000  years  ago.  Some  form  of  life  has 
probably  existed  on  it  during  nearly  all  that  period. 
But  paleontology  teaches  that  life,  though  slowly 
increasing    in    development,    was    of    too    low    an 


CHAP,  n  SOCIOLOGY  AND   COSMOLOGY  33 

order  to  be  capable  of  intelligence  until  man  ap- 
peared. Yet  what  are  the  estimates  of  man's 
entire  historic  and  prehistoric  existence  ?  The  most 
extravagant  of  them  do  not  go  back  500,000  years. 
More  probable  ones  stop  at  200,000.  So  that  man 
seems  to  have  shared  the  life  of  the  globe  during 
only  one  five-hundredth  part  of  its  developed  exist- 
ence. But  even  this  was  nearly  all  spent  in  an 
almost  completely  animal  state.  Intelligence  never 
reached  the  point  at  which  it  could  furnish  a  rec- 
ord until  within  at  most  25,000  years  of  our  pres- 
ent epoch,  and  authentic  records  are  confined  to  the 
past  forty  or  fifty  centuries.  Thus  only  one  fortieth 
or  fiftieth  of  the  little  span  of  man's  existence  be- 
longs to  the  age  of  culture,  however  rude.  And 
what  is  there  to  be  said  in  favor  of  the  condition 
of  the  world  even  at  its  best  ?  Read  human  his- 
tory. As  Professor  Huxley  has  said,  if  nothing 
better  was  in  store  than  what  we  have  thus  far 
had  we  should  hail  the  advent  of  some  friendly 
comet  that  should  pass  along  and  sweep  the  whole 
phantasmagoria  out  of  existence.  There  is  what  we 
call  human  progress,  but  what  is  it  but  a  rhythmic 
and  only  partial  success  in  rendering  a  worse  condi- 
tion a  trifle  better  ?  Even  this  is  accidental  and  may 
go  backward  instead  of  forward.  There  are  as  many 
things  that  retard  as  there  are  that  advance  the  race, 
and  human  progress,  like  the  "  regulator  "  of  a  steam 
engine,  seems  to  be  adjusted  so  as  to  defeat  itself. 
Much  of  it  is  purely  accidental.     No  one  will  ever 


34  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  part  i 

know  but  that  the  state  of  civilization  would  have 
been  a  century  ago  what  it  is  to-day  but  for  some 
trifling  accident.  I  once  heard  a  learned  and  con- 
servative physicist  say  that  Aristotle's  teachings  had 
delayed  the  progress  of  man's  knowledge  of  the  laws 
of  nature  a  thousand  years.  What  evidence  is  there 
that  there  is  any  power  making  for  the  increase  of 
knowledge  ?  Our  acquaintance  with  the  true  nature 
of  animals  and  plants  and  with  man  depends  largely 
upon  what  can  be  learned  of  their  history  throughout 
past  ages  of  the  world.  Yet  what  is  the  nature  of 
the  geological  record  ?  Every  practical  paleontolo- 
gist knows  and  always  feels  that  discovery  in  this 
field  depends  upon  the  merest  chance,  nay,  upon  a 
coincidence  of  two  chances,  first,  that  anything  has 
been  preserved,  and  secondly,  that  it  will  ever  be 
found.  He  labors  under  the  perpetual  feeling  that 
the  most  important  of  discoveries  may  in  fact  never 
be  made,  and  that  he  may  be  at  any  time,  without 
knowing  it,  walking  over  the  keys  to  the  secrets  of 
the  universe.  And  after  man  acquires  great  know- 
ledge and  power  over  the  universe,  so  that  he  can 
enlist  all  the  forces  and  materials  of  nature  in 
his  service,  the  inequalities  in  individual  opportu- 
nities, coupled  with  the  intense  egoism  which  has 
alone  enabled  the  race  to  survive,  practically  robs 
society  of  the  results  by  placing  the  masses  in  the 
power  of  the  few,  under  which  system  neither  class 
can  really  enjoy  the  fruits  of  intelligence  and 
industry. 


CHAP.  11  SOCIOLOGY  AND    COSMOLOGY  35 

All  this  may  have  a  pessimistic  sound.  In  fact 
it  constitutes  the  contribution  that  pessimism  has 
made  to  social  philosophy.  It  has  taught  us  to 
open  our  eyes,  to  look  the  facts  in  the  face,  to  lis- 
ten to  no  siren  song,  to  see  and  bravely  acknowledge 
the  truth  of  man's  condition  and  his  relation  to  the 
universe.  So  long  as  we  do  not  exaggerate,  so  long 
as  these  relations,  however  bad,  are  the  true  rela- 
tions, no  possible  harm  can  come  of  knowing  and 
realizing  the  truth.  It  is  the  only  healthy  attitude, 
while  on  the  other  hand,  the  ignorance  of  this 
truth  or  the  refusal  to  avow  it  is  fatal  to  progress. 
But  it  will  not  do  to  stop  here.  It  is  not  enough 
merely  to  learn  that  things  are  bad.  The  two 
errors  of  pessimism  have  been,  first,  that  of  over- 
drawing the  picture,  and  second,  that  of  failing  to 
learn  the  lesson  which  the  picture  teaches. 

Having  tried  to  paint  the  picture  true  to  life, 
let  us  next  inquire  what  the  lesson  is  that  we 
should  learn  from  its  careful  study.  The  first 
and  most  elementary  principle  of  that  lesson  is 
that  the  very  fortuity  from  which  this  entire  state 
of  things  results  is  laden  with  the  highest  hopes 
for  mankind  ;  that  no  other  condition  could  fur- 
nish any  such  ground  for  hope  ;  that  the  opposite 
or  optimistic  view,  were  it  the  true  one,  would 
really  lead  to  despair.  The  optimist  may  be  com- 
pared to  a  young  man  without  employment  or 
means  of  subsistence  who  lives  in  the  perpetual 
and   illusive   hope   that   some   rich   relative   or   ac- 


36  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  part  i 

quaintance  may  bequeath,  him  a  fortune.  Con- 
trasted with  this,  the  meliorist  may  be  likened  to 
a  young  man  who,  recognizing  the  truth  that  un- 
earned fortunes  are  not  given  to  idle  adventurers, 
goes  resolutely  to  work  and  strives  by  honest  in- 
dustry to  build  up  a  fortune  for  himself.  And 
this  is  the  true  lesson  for  human  society.  There 
is  no  room  for  social  Micawbers.  Whatever  "  turns 
up "  must  be  turned  up.  The  passive  attitude  is 
suicidal.  This  folding  of  the  arms  and  resignation 
to  fate  is  certain  to  meet  its  fate.  The  cosmic 
Juggernaut  will  roll  over  and  crush  those  who 
throw  themselves  before  it.  The  logic  of  science 
is  action,  and  only  by  busy  brains  and  busy  hands 
can  the  recognized  evils  of  the  world  be  lessened 
or  removed. 

The  second  principle  in  this  great  lesson  is  that 
it  is  only  because  all  nature  is  a  domain  of  rigid 
law,  of  absolute  impartiality,  and  devoid  of  all 
moral  quality  and  all  intelligence,  that  man  can 
hope  to  carve  out  of  it  his  fortune  or  shape  his 
destiny.  If  it  had  sympathies  and  preferences  and 
prejudices  ;  if  it  had  intelligence  and  will,  it  would 
be  utterly  unmanageable  and  would  ever  remain 
the  master  and  despot  of  man,  as  it  practically  has 
been  during  most  of  his  early  history,  and  it  could 
never  become  his  servant  and  all-powerful  aid  and 
ally  as  it  is  fast  getting  to  be  and  is  certain  ere 
long  fully  to  become.  Thus  the  hardest  facts  of 
existence   are   seen   to   embody  the    germs   of    the 


CHAP,  11  SOCIOLOGY  AND    COSMOLOGY  37 

brightest  hopes.  Those  dark  realities  which  have 
been  taken  as  arguments  for  pessimism  are  them- 
selves, when  correctly  understood,  the  foundations 
of  the  only  sound  philosophy  of  social  progress. 

The  only  proper  attitude  on  all  these  questions 
is  to  view  the  universe  objectively.  Dismissing 
forever  all  idea  of  what  it  ought  to  be,  we  must 
simply  seek  to  determine  what  it  is.  We  must 
also  divest  ourselves  wholly  of  the  notion  that 
we  can  determine  this  by  pure  reflection.  There 
is  no  fixed  way  in  which  things  must  be  which 
enables  us  to  reason  out  the  way  they  are.  While, 
of  course,  the  way  they  are  is  really  the  only  way 
they  could  have  been,  still  the  antecedent  causes 
which  have  brought  ■  them  into  existence,  besides 
being  unknown  to  man,  are  so  infinitely  complex 
that  they  are  for  the  most  part  wholly  beyond  his 
grasp.  For  example,  any  one  can  conceive  of  a  solar 
system  in  which  no  single  relation  is  the  same  as 
exists  in  ours.  Any  one  can  conceive  of  beings  in- 
habiting a  planet  all  of  which  shall  be  entirely 
different  from  any  of  those  that  inhabit  this  earth. 
The  plan  of  structure  of  organic  forms  depends 
entirely  upon  the  initiative  which  first  launched 
each  type  upon  its  career.  This  initiative  is  wholly 
fortuitous.  The  vertebrate  type  of  animals,  for 
example,  must  be  looked  upon  as  due  to  some  pri- 
mordial accident,  as  it  were,  i.e.,  some  coincidence 
of  causes,  external  and  internal,  at  tlie  appropriate 
time   and   place,  that   happened   to  determine  that 


38  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  part  i 

type  of  structure  which  proved  better  adapted  to 
sustam  the  highest  organization  thus  far  attained 
in  the  animal  kingdom.  If  this  particular  type  had 
not  chanced  to  be  tried,  some  other  would  have 
stood  highest,  but  it  is  as  likely  to  have  been  a 
still  better  one  as  to  have  been  a  poorer  one  for 
the  purpose.  If  the  planet  Mars  is  really  the  home 
of  living  beings,  the  chances  of  the  vertebrate  type 
of  structure  occurring  there  are  only  as  one  to 
infinity.  Yet  some  superior  type  may  be  developed 
there.  And  if  there  be  on  that  planet  or  anywhere 
else  in  the  solar  system  or  in  the  universe  a  master 
being  related  to  other  beings  in  any  such  way  as 
man  is  related  to  the  other  living  creatures  on  this 
earth,  the  chances  are  again  infinity  to  one  against 
his  possessing  the  form  or  any  of  the  leading  physi- 
cal attributes  of  human  beings. 

All  this  may  at  first  sight  look  like  wild  Utopian 
speculation.  But  its  utility  does  not  lie  in  any 
knowledge  it  yields  as  to  the  inhabitants  of  other 
planets.  It  lies  in  teaching  the  great  lesson  that 
no  knowledge  of  anything  can  be  gained  by  specu- 
lation, and  that  our  only  knowledge  consists  in  the 
actual  investigation  of  facts  that  lie  within  our 
reach.  We  must  study  the  tangible,  visible,  de- 
monstrable world  and  find  out  what  it  contains. 
There  is  no  telling  what  we  shall  find.  No  precon- 
ceived notions  of  what  we  ought  to  find,  much  less 
of  what  we  ought  not  to  find,  must  influence  the 
quest  for  truth.     This  is  not,  however,  to  discourage 


CHAP.  II  SOCIOLOGY  AND    COSMOLOGY  39 

the  use  of  hypotheses.  They  are  the  searchlights 
of  science.  But  their  use  requires  due  caution, 
and  a  hypothesis  must  not  be  confounded  with  a 
thesis. 

Now,  while  it  is  true  that  all  those  aggregations 
of  cosmic  elements  that  give  multiplicity  and  variety 
to  the  content  of  the  universe  are  in  the  sense 
explained  wholly  fortuitous  and  might  as  well  have 
all  been  different  from  what  they  are,  it  is  a  legiti- 
mate question  to  inquire  whether  there  remains 
anything  which  is  not  thus  fortuitous,  and  which 
must  in  the  nature  of  things  be  what  it  is.  And 
we  find  that  there  are  such  things.  There  are 
essentials  as  well  as  accidents,  but  they  belong  to 
a  different  category.  If  we  examine  the  matter 
closely,  we  will  see  that  all  the  cases  considered 
come  under  the  head  of  form  —  worlds,  plants, 
animals,  men.  But  there  is  another  great  class  of 
cases  which  fall  under  the  head  of  forces  or  princi- 
ples, and  these  when  carefully  examined  are  found 
not  to  be  variables  but  constants  —  the  constants  of 
nature.  By  this  I  do  not  mean  that  they  always 
exist  at  all  times  and  places,  although  this  is  prob- 
ably true  of  the  universal  gravitant  and  radiant 
forces,  of  which,  indeed,  all  the  other  forms  of 
energy  are  doubtless  special  conditions.  I  refer  in 
general  to  what  is  known  as  the  principle  or  law  of 
evolution,  and  in  particular  to  the  three  latest  phases 
of  that  law  whicli  are  called  respectively,  Life,  Feel- 
ing, and  Thought.     For  while  the   forms   through 


40  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  part  i 

which  these  modes  of  energy  are  manifested  may 
vary  to  any  required  extent,  I  cannot  conceive  that 
the  attributes  themselves  coukl  under  any  circum- 
stances be  other  than  they  are.  For  example,  while 
the  fancied  inhabitants  of  Mars  might  all  differ  in 
every  other  particular  from  those  of  this  earth,  it  is 
impossible  to  conceive  them  as  not  endowed  with 
life  at  least,  although  we  can  suppose  them  devoid 
of  feeling  in  the  same  sense  that  we  conceive  plants 
to  be.  But  if  we  imagine  them  to  have  advanced 
even  to  the  lowest  animal  stage,  we  are  obliged  to 
endow  them  with  feeling,  consciousness,  will.  And 
when  we  speak  of  a  remote  planet  being  "  inhab- 
ited," although  we  can  abstract  from  those  inhabi- 
tants every  physical  character  that  belongs  to  man 
and  conceive  them  as  dragons,  or  satyrs,  or  mon- 
sters of  any  form,  we  cannot  imagine  them  devoid 
of  reason  and  intelligence  in  addition  to  the  attri- 
butes of  life  and  sensibility. 

Coming  back  to  earth  and  confining  ourselves  to 
what  we  actually  know,  we  thus  see  that  three  great 
steps*  in  evolution  have  been  taken  since  the  surface 
of  our  globe  became  firm  enough  and  cool  enough 
to  render  the  first  one  possible.  I  call  these  the 
great  cosmical  cri%es  of  the  earth's  history  —  the 
origin  of  life,  of  feeling  or  consciousness,  and  of 
intellect  or  reason.  These  have  occurred  in  this 
order  at  different  geologic  epochs,  and  certainly  with 
an  enormous  interval  between  the  second  and  third. 
The  forms  through  which  the  first  and  second  have 


CHAP.  II  SOCIOLOGY  AND    COSMOLOGY  4 1 

manifested  themselves  —  the  plants  and  animals  — 
are  innumerable.  That  through  which  the  last  has 
chiefly  manifested  itself  is  man,  a  single  species  of 
the  animal  kingdom.  And  it  is  altogether  probable 
that  any  planet,  in  its  progress  from  a  semi-nebulous 
state  to  an  encrusted  globe,  would  evolve  the  struct- 
ures necessary  to  the  exhibition  of  these  three  forms 
of  cosmic  energy,  although,  as  already  remarked,  the 
organs  and  organisms  manifesting  them  might  have 
no  external  resemblance  to  those  with  which  we  are 
acquainted. 

We  thus  arrive,  after  threading  the  vast  mazes  of 
cosmic  evolution,  at  man,  the  only  being  known  to 
us  who  is  endowed  with  all  three  of  the  powers 
described,  the  only  self-conscious,  rational,  and  intel- 
ligent product  of  nature.  We  find  him  to  be  also 
a  social  being.  The  question  therefore  naturally 
arises,  Is  sociability  a  third  and  still  higher  form  of 
storing  and  expending  cosmic  energy  ?  There  are 
objections  to  this  view,  the  principal  one  being  that 
certain  forms  of  sociability  appear  among  creatures 
to  which  intelligence  cannot  be  imputed,  not  merely 
among  many  of  the  higher  mammals  and  other  verte- 
brates, but  notably  among  insects.  Here  instinct 
seems  to  have  brought  about  the  same  general  eco- 
nomic system  that  has  resulted  in  part  at  least  from 
rational  calculation  in  man.  But  this  question 
belongs  more  properly  to  a  later  chapter,  and  is  only 
raised  here  as  a  natural  sequel  to  the  broader  prob- 
lems that  we  have  been  discussing.     It  is  only  by 


42  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  part  I 

means  of  such  a  complete  orientation  of  the  mind 
that  the  true  relations  subsisting  between  sociology 
and  kindred  sciences  can  be  clearly  and  correctly 
perceived,  and  these  wider  aspects  of  the  subject 
belong  preeminently  to  social  philosophy. 


CHAPTER   III 

RELATION  OF  SOCIOLOGY  TO  BIOLOGY  i 

The  thesis  of  this  chapter  is  that  sociology  does 
not  rest  directly  but  indirectly  upon  biology.  The 
science  upon  which  it  does  directly  rest  is  psy- 
chology, and  this  direct  relation  will  be  the  subject 
of  the  fifth  chapter.  The  fourth  will  be  devoted  to 
its  relations  to  that  highest  product  of  biologic  law, 
the  human  species.  We  are  at  present  concerned 
with  the  more  general  relations  between  sociology 
and  biology  considered  as  abstract  sciences,  i.e.,  be- 
tween the  laws  of  life  and  those  of  association. 

Coupling  the  present  discussion  as  closely  as 
possible  with  the  previous  one,  we  may  say  at  the 
outset  that  nature  must  not  be  conceived  as  aiming 
to  accomplish  any  definite  object  by  the  introduction 
of  life.  There  has  undoubtedly  been  a  rhythmic  but 
general  tendency  towards  tlie  improvement  or  per- 
fecting of  structures  throughout  the  history  of  the 
earth  since  life  was  introduced,  but  there  is  no 
promise  that  this  is  always  to  continue.  All  who 
have  studied  the  subject,  whether  from  the  geological, 

'  American  Journal  of  Sociology,  Vol.  I.,  No.  3,  Chicago, 
November,  1895,  pp.  .313-326. 

43 


44  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  part  i 

physical,  astronomical,  or  purely  philosophical  point 
of  view,  agree  that  the  life-sustaining  period  of  a 
planet  is  only  a  relatively  short  one  between  vastly 
longer  ones  to  precede  and  follow  it,  in  which  the 
conditions  to  life  are  absent.  In  Herbert  Spencer's 
great  scheme  of  the  redistribution  of  matter,  dissolu- 
tion is  as  much  a  factor  as  evolution,  and  whether 
we  accept  the  estimate  of  Newcomb  that  the  life 
period  of  this  earth  is  to  continue  ten  million  years, 
or  that  of  Helmholtz  that  it  will  last  seventeen  million 
years,  or  that  of  Shaler  that  we  may  hope  for  yet  one 
hundred  million  years,  we  must  in  any  case  admit 
a  limit,  and  as  it  would  seem,  must  assume  that 
the  last  stages  of  that  period  will  be  marked  by  the 
gradual  decline,  as  the  first  stages  are  with  a  slow 
advance  in  the  state  of  living  beings.  Everything 
indicates  that  we,  the  occupants  of  this  earth  in  the 
historic  period  of  the  human  race,  are  living  at  a  time 
when  life  conditions  are  in  their  ascending  stage, 
and  that  our  teeming  world  is,  as  it  were,  rejoicing 
in  the  morning  of  creation.  The  forces  of  evolution 
are  in  full  play,  and  therefore,  while  dismissing  the 
idea  of  purpose,  we  may  legitimately  inquire  what 
are  the  tendencies  of  evolution.  There  is  no  harm 
either,  fot  the  sake  of  terse  expression,  in  using 
teleological  language,  which  is  about  all  the  language 
we  have,  provided  we  first  disclaim  the  old-time 
teleological  implications.  Dr.  Asa  Gray,  who,  while 
fully  accepting  evolution  in  the  Darwinian  sense, 
believed  in  what  he  characterized  as  "evolutionary 


CHAP.  Ill  SOCIOLOGY  AND  BIOLOGY  45 

teleology,"  answered  the  general  question  in  the 
following  words :  — 

"  To  accumulate  the  greatest  amount  of  being 
upon  a  given  space,  and  to  provide  as  much  enjoy- 
ment of  life  as  can  be  under  the  conditions,  is  what 
Nature  seems  to  aim  at."i 

I  was  struck  with  this  passage  when  I  first  read  it, 
because  I  had  long  been  led  to  adopt  a  formula 
practically  identical  with  the  first  part  of  his,  viz., 
that  the  object  of  nature  was  to  transfer  the  maxi- 
mum amount  of  inorganic  matter  to  the  organized 
state.  This  seems  to  me  to  be  the  whole  tendency 
of  organic  evolution,  and  organization  in  its  broadest 
sense  —  the  differentiation  of  parts  and  integration 
of  wholes,  the  development,  perfection,  multiplica- 
tion, specialization,  and  refinement  of  structures  —  is 
only  the  improved  means  to  this  general  end.  I 
have  considered  all  the  apparent  objections  to  this 
theory,  which  need  not  be  entered  into  here,  and 
satisfied  myself  that  they  are  not  valid,  and  that  the 
law  as  stated  by  Dr.  Gray  is  altogether  sound.  This 
does  not,  however,  include  the  second  clause  of  his 
formula  relating  to  the  enjoyment  of  life,  which  I  do 
not  regard  as  true. 

The  law  is,  however,  much  broader  than  this,  or 
rather,  this  may  be  regarded  as  only  one  of  the  appli- 
cations of  a  much  broader  law.  That  law  is  that 
evolution  is  essentially  a  process  of  storing  cosmical 
energy.  All  cosmical  energy  results  from  the  inter- 
1  Darwiniana,  New  York,  1877,  p.  175. 


46  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  part   i 

action  of  the  great  correlative  and  antithetical  (rather 
than  antagonistic)  gravitant  and  radiant  forces  of 
the  universe.  When  these  forces  bear  a  certain  ratio 
to  each  other,  their  interaction  produces  systems  pri- 
marily chemical,  then  planetary,  and  finally  biotic. 
The  whole  may  be  correctly  characterized  as  so  many 
forms  or  modes  of  organization.  There  is  no  more 
perfect  example  of  organization  than  a  solar  system, 
of  which  ours  is  only  one  of  thousands.  But  every 
chemical  combination  is  also  a  system  no  less  per- 
fectly organized.  In  chemical  combinations,  how- 
ever, there  are  all  degrees  of  complexity,  from  the 
atom  of  hydrogen  to  the  molecule  of  albumen  5000 
times  larger.  And  beyond  this  last  is  protoplasm 
whose  chemical  formula  cannot  be  written,  but  which 
constitutes,  in  the  words  of  Huxley,  "the  physical 
basis  of  life."  It  could  be  shown  (and  I  have  en- 
deavored to  show)  ^  that  at  each  step  in  this  ascend- 
ing series  of  organized  products  a  new  and  higher 
energy  is  acquired,  that  of  protoplasm  constituting 
the  highest  expression  of  this  law  in  the  chemical 
series  and  fairly  bridging  over  the  interval  between 
the  inorganic  and  the  organic. 

Although  chemical  organization  can  go  no  farther 
than  the  production  of  protoplasm,  the  law  does 
not  cease  to  act,  but  henceforth  it  must  follow  a 
somewhat  different  method.  Up  to  this  stage  all 
activity  is  molecular.  In  the  next  or  biotic  stage 
it  is  molar.     In  all  inorganic  products  the  motion 

1  The  Monist^  Vol.  V.,  Chicago,  January,  1895,  pp.  247-263. 


CHAP.  Ill  SOCIOLOGY  AND  BIOLOGY  47 

which  their  increasingly  active  properties  prove 
to  exist  is  imperceptible  to  sense.  In  protoplasm 
and  all  organic  products  the  motion  is  perceptible 
to  sense.  It  is  here  called  spontaneous,  and  spon- 
taneous mobility  is  supposed  to  be  a  criterion  of 
life,  but  in  reality  the  imperceptible  motion  of 
inorganic  matter  is  as  truly  spontaneous  as  are 
the  activities  of  a  living  organism.  Biotic  organi- 
zation takes  place  by  means  of  structure.  The 
lowest  organisms  are  said  to  be  unorganized.  They 
consist  entirely  of  protoplasm.  But  the  biological 
unit,  the  cytode  or  enucleated  cell,  is  a  very  com- 
plex body  compared  to  a  molecule  of  protoplasm. 
The  phenomena  of  heredity  show  that  there  are 
still  simpler  elements  or  units  having  very  varied 
qualities.  These  are  probably  not  simple  molecules 
of  protoplasm,  although  these  need  not  be  assumed 
to  be  altogether  alike,  but  would  appear  to  be 
multiform  aggregations  of  such  molecules  carrying 
in  their  composition  the  hereditary  tendencies  of 
ancestral  organisms.  The  Protozoa  and  Protophyta, 
or  Protist  kingdom,  are  unicellular  organisms,  and 
their  organization  is  in  a  sense  molecular.  At  least 
they  are  devoid  of  true  organs  and  even  of  true 
tissues. 

Biotic  organization  proper  consists  of  some  kind 
of  combination  of  the  biological  units  or  cells  into 
tissues  and  organs,  thus  forming  a  compound  or 
complex  body  called  an  organism.  Such  combina- 
tions are  formed  in  a  great  variety  of  ways,  and 


48  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  PART  I 

the  primary  units  are  integrated  in  all  degrees. 
In  the  highest  organisms  there  is  complete  inte- 
gration and  interdependence  of  parts.  Every  or- 
ganism is  held  together  and  rendered  effective 
entirely  by  protoplasm,  every  organ  and  part  being 
linked  to  every  other  by  threads  of  this  sub- 
stance called  nerves.  The  life  of  plants  is  as  de- 
pendent upon  protoplasm  as  that  of  animals,  but 
the  protoplasm  resides  in  the  cells  and  controls 
the  vegetative  processes.  The  important  fact  from 
our  present  point  of  view  is  that  every  living  or- 
ganism is  an  organized  mechanism  for  the  storage 
and  voluntary  expenditure  of  energy,  and  as  such 
does  not  dijffer  in  principle  from  the  chemical  prod- 
ucts of  the  inorganic  world.  The  force  that  resides 
in  the  organic  world  is  all  derived  from  the  prop- 
erties of  protoplasm,  and  these  are  in  turn  derived 
from  chemical  affinities.  We  might  carry  the 
series  back  and  find  that  all  energy  originally  em- 
anates from  the  primary  forces  of  gravitation  and 
radiation  which  permeate  the  universe.  The  reason 
why  a  developed  organism  has  more  power  than 
an  undeveloped  cytode  is  that  a  much  larger 
amount  of  protoplasm  has  been  coordinated  into 
an  economic  system  and  made  to  exert  its  force 
in  unison.  Its  entire  combined  energy  may  be 
directed  at  will  to  a  single  purpose.  The  system 
is  moreover  a  mechanism  or  machine  which  em- 
ploys a  number  of  the  well-known  principles  of 
mechanics,   such  as    the    lever    and    fulcrum,    the 


CHAP.  Ill  SOCIOLOGY  AND  BIOLOGY  49 

pulley,  the  force-pump,  valves,  bellows,  etc.  But 
mainly  it  may  be  looked  upon  as  a  system  of  coop- 
eration among  a  multitude  of  protoplasmic  bodies 
with  all  the  advantages  that  always  result  from  com- 
bined action.  These  are  always  much  greater  than 
the  simple  sum  of  the  several  powers  of  the  com- 
ponent elements.  But  the  principle  of  cooperation, 
so  important  for  sociology,  is  after  all  nothing 
more  than  a  modification  of  the  one  uniform  and 
universal  process  of  concentration  or  focalization 
of*  the  cosmic  energy  for  special  purposes,  and  the 
single  object  under  all  circumstances  is  greater 
efficiency. 

I  scarcely  need  point  out  the  application  of  so 
important  a  principle  to  sociology,  but  it  is  too 
early  to  discuss  this  subject.  I  have  presented 
this  fundamental  view  of  the  nature  of  an  organism 
in  order  the  better  to  approach  the  general  ques- 
tion whether  society  is  capable  of  being  logically 
compared  to  an  organism  in  the  biological  sense. 
Such  a  comparison,  so  far  from  .being  anything 
new,  has  been  a  favorite  one  with  some  writers 
since  the  time  of  Plato  and  Tlmcydides.  It  was 
stoutly  held  by  Hobbes  and  also  by  Hegel.  Comte 
set  it  forth  with  great  clearness  and  avoided  most 
of  the  objections  of  other  authors  by  not  attempt- 
ing to  claim  the  specific  resemblance  of  i)arts  in 
the  two  sciences.  Of  all  authors  who  have  de- 
fended it  and  specifically  illustrated  it  Mr.  Herbert 
Spencer  must  be  placed  first.     His  strongest  pres- 


50  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  part  I 

entation  of  this  subject  is  not  to  be  found  in  his 
Synthetic  Philosophy,  although  he  has  treated  it 
there,  but  in  an  article  on  "The  Social  Organism," 
originally  contributed  to  the  Westminster  Review  in 
1860.^  This  article  was  subsequently  revised  by 
him  and  many  alterations  made.  In  this  form  it 
is  published  in  the  Essays,  Scientific,  Political,  and 
Speculative.  In  view  of  the  great  importance  of 
the  subject  at  the  present  stage  of  the  argument, 
and  in  order  that  it  may  be  set  forth  in  its  strongest 
form,  I  have  felt  that  I  could  not  do  better  than 
to  devote  a  considerable  part  of  this  paper  to  a 
literal  reproduction  of  Mr.  Spencer's  treatment  of 
it  in  this  essay.  I  quote  from  the  American  edi- 
tion of  the  Essays,  1891  :  — 

We  propose  here  to  show  what  are  the  analogies 
which  modern  science  discloses  to  us. 

Let  us  set  out  by  succinctly  stating  the  points  of  simi- 
larity and  the  points  of  difference.  Societies  agree  with 
individual  organisms  in  four  conspicuous  peculiarities : 

1.  That  commencing  as  small  aggregations,  they  in- 
sensibly augment  in  mass;  some  of  them  eventually 
reaching  ten  thousand  times  what  they  originally  were. 

2.  That  while  at  first  so  simple  in  structure  as  to  be 
considered  structureless,  they  assume,  in  the  course  of 
their  growth,  a  continually  increasing  complexity  of 
structure. 

3.  That  though  in  their  early  undeveloped  states  there 
exists  in  them  scarcely  any  mutual  dependence  of  parts, 
their  parts  gradually  acquire  a  mutual  dependence,  which 

1  New  Series,  Vol.  XVII.,  January  1,  18G0,  pp.  90-121. 


CIIAP.  Ill  SOCIOL OGY  AND  BIOL OGY  5  I 

becomes  at  last  so  great  that  the  activity  and  life  of  each 
part  is  made  possible  only  by  the  activity  and  life  of  the 
rest. 

4.  That  the  life  and  development  of  a  society  is  in- 
dependent of,  and  far  more  prolonged  than,  the  life  and 
development  of  any  of  its  component  units :  who  are 
severally  born,  grow,  work,  reproduce,  and  die,  while  the 
body  politic  composed  of  them  survives  generation  after 
generation,  increasing  in  mass,  completeness  of  structure, 
and  functional  activity. 

These  four  parallelisms  will  appear  the  more  signifi- 
cant the  more  we  contemplate  them.  While  the  points 
specified  are  points  in  which  societies  agree  with  in- 
dividual organisms,  they  are  points  in  which  individual 
organisms  agree  with  each  other,  and  disagree  with  all 
things  else.  In  the  course  of  its  existence  every  plant 
and  animal  increases  in  mass,  in  a  way  not  paralleled  by 
inorganic  objects:  even  such  inorganic  objects  as  crystals, 
which  arise  by  growth,  show  us  no  such  definite  relation 
between  growth  and  existence  as  organisms  do.  The 
orderly  progress  from  simplicity  to  complexity,  displayed 
by  bodies  politic  in  common  with  all  living  bodies,  is  a 
characteristic  which  distinguishes  living  bodies  from  the 
inanimate  bodies  amid  which  tliey  move.  That  functional 
de])endence  of  parts  which  is  scarcely  more  manifest 
in  animals  or  plants  than  nations,  has  no  counterpart 
elsewhere.  And  in  no  aggregate  except  an  organic  or  a 
social  one  is  there  a  perpetual  removal  and  replacement 
of  parts,  joined  with  a  continued  integrity  of  the  whole. 

]\roreover,  societies  and  organisms  are  not  only  alike 
in  these  peculiarities,  in  which  they  are  unlike  all  other 
things ;  but  the  highest  societies,  like  the  highest  organ- 
isms, exhibit  them  in  the  greatest  degree. 

We  see  that  the  lowest  animals  do  not  increase  to  any- 
tliing  like  the  sizes  of  the  higlicr  ones;  and,  similarly, 


52  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  part  I 

we  see  that  aboriginal  societies  are  comparatively  limited 
in  their  growths.  In  complexity,  our  large  civilized  na- 
tions as  much  exceed  primitive  savage  tribes,  as  a  verte- 
brate animal  does  a  zoophyte.  Simple  communities,  like 
simple  creatures,  have  so  little  mutual  dependence  of 
parts  that  subdivision  or  mutilation  causes  but  little 
inconvenience ;  but  from  complex  communities,  as  from 
complex  creatures,  you  cannot  remove  any  considerable 
organ  without  producing  great  disturbance  or  death  of 
the  rest.  And  in  societies  of  low  type,  as  in  inferior 
animals,  the  life  of  the  aggregate,  often  cut  short  by 
division  or  dissolution,  exceeds  in  length  the  lives  of  the 
component  units,  very  far  less  than  in  civilized  commu- 
nities and  superior  animals ;  which  outlive  many  genera- 
tions of  their  component  units. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  leading  differences  between 
societies  and  individual  organisms  are  these : 

1.  That  societies  have  no  specific  external  forms. 
This,  however,  is  a  point  of  contrast  which  loses  much 
of  its  importance,  when  we  remember  that  throughout 
the  vegetal  kingdom,  as  well  as  in  some  lower  divisions 
of  the  animal  kingdom,  the  forms  are  often  very  indefi- 
nite—  definiteness  being  rather  the  exception  than  the 
rule;  and  that  they  are  manifestly  in  part  determined 
by  surrounding  physical  circumstances,  as  the  forms  of 
societies  are.  If,  too,  it  should  eventually  be  shown,  as 
we  believe  it  will,  that  the  form  of  every  species  of  or- 
ganism has  resulted  from  the  average  play  of  the  external 
forces  to  which  it  has  been  subject  during  its  evolution 
as  a  species,  then,  that  the  external  forms  of  society 
should  depend,  as  they  do,  on  surrounding  conditions, 
will  be  a  further  point  of  community. 

2.  That  though  the  living  tissue  whereof  an  individual 
organism  consists  forms  a  continuous  mass,  the  living  ele- 
ments of  a  society  do  not  form  a  continuous  mass,  but  are 


CHAP.  Ill  SOCIOLOGY  AND  BIOLOGY  53 

more  or  less  Avidely  dispersed  over  some  portion  of  the 
earth's  surface.  This,  which  at  first  sight  appears  to  be 
a  fundamental  distinction,  is  one  which  yet  to  a  great 
extent  disappears  when  we  contemplate  all  the  facts. 
For,  in  the  lower  divisions  of  the  animal  and  vegetal 
kingdoms,  there  are  types  of  organization  much  more 
nearly  allied,  in  this  respect,  to  the  organization  of  a 
society,  than  might  be  supposed  —  types  in  which  the 
living  units  essentially  composing  the  mass  are  dispersed 
through  an  inert  substance,  that  can  scarcely  be  called 
living  in  the  full  sense  of  the  word.  It  is  thus  with 
some  of  the  Protococci  and  with  the  Nostocem,  which  ex- 
ist as  cells  imbedded  in  a  viscid  matter.  It  is  so,  too, 
with  the  Thalassicolke  —  bodies  that  are  made  up  of  dif- 
ferentiated parts,  dispersed  through  an  undifferentiated 
jelly.  And  throughout  considerable  portions  of  their 
bodies,  some  of  the  Acaleplioi  exhibit  more  or  less  dis- 
tinctly this  type  of  structure. 

Indeed,  it  may  be  contended  that  this  is  the  primitive 
form  of  all  organization ;  seeing  that,  even  in  the  highest 
creatures,  as  in  ourselves,  every-  tissue  develops  out  of 
what  physiologists  call  a  blastema  —  an  unorganized 
though  organizable  sul^stance,  through  which  organic 
points  are  distributed.  Now  this  is  very-  much  the  case 
with  a  society.  Eor  we  must  remember  that  though  the 
men  who  make  up  a  society  are  physically  separate  and 
even  scattered,  yet  that  tlie  surface  over  which  they  are 
scattered  is  not  one  devoid  of  life,  but  is  covered  by  life 
of  a  lower  order  which  ministers  to  their  life.  The 
vegetation  which  clothes  a  country  makes  possible  the 
animal  life  in  that  coimtry ;  and  only  through  its  animal 
and  vegetable  jjroducts  can  such  a  country  support  a 
human  society.  Hence  the  members  of  the  body  politic 
are  not  to  l)e  regarded  as  separated  by  intervals  of  dead 
space,  but  as  diffused  through  a  sjjace  occupied  by  life  of 


54  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  part  I 

a  lower  order.  In  our  conception  of  a  social  organism 
we  must  include  all  that  lower  organic  existence  on 
which,  human  existence,  and  therefore  social  existence, 
depends.  And  when  we  do  this,  we  see  that  the  citizens 
who  make  up  a  community  may  be  considered  as  highly 
vitalized  units  surrounded  by  substances  of  lower  vitality, 
from  which  they  draw  their  nutriment:  much  as  in  the 
cases  above  instanced.  Thus,  when  examined,  this  ap- 
parent distinction  in  great  part  disappears. 

3.  That  while  the  ultimate  living  elements  of  an 
individual  organism  are  mostly  fixed  in  their  relative 
positions,  those  of  the  social  organism  are  capable  of 
moving  from  place  to  place,  seems  a  marked  disagree- 
ment. But  here,  too,  the  disagreement  is  much  less  than 
would  be  supposed.  For  while  citizens  are  locomotive  in 
their  private  capacities,  they  are  fixed  in  their  public 
capacities.  As  farmers,  manufacturers,  or  traders,  men 
carry  on  their  business  at  the  same  spots,  often  through- 
out their  whole  lives ;  and  if  they  go  away  occasionally, 
they  leave  behind  others  to  discharge  their  functions  in 
their  absence.  Each  great  centre  of  production,  each 
manufacturing  town  or  district,  continues  always  in  the 
same  place ;  and  many  of  the  firms  in  such  town  or  dis- 
trict are  for  generations  carried  on  either  by  the  descend- 
ants or  successors  of  those  who  founded  them.  Just  as 
in  a  living  body,  the  cells  that  make  up  some  important 
organ,  severally  perform  their  functions  for  a  time  and 
then  disappear,  leaving  others  to  supply  their  places ;  so, 
in  each  part  of  a  society,  the  organ  remains,  though  the 
persons  who  compose  it  change.  Thus,  in  social  life,  as 
in  the  life  of  an  animal,  the  units  as  well  as  the  larger 
agencies  formed  of  them,  are  in  the  main  stationary  as 
respects  the  places  where  they  discharge  their  duties  and 
obtain  their  sustenance.  And  hence  the  power  of  indi- 
vidual  locomotion  does  not  practically  affect  the  analogy. 


CHAP.  Ill  SOCIOLOGY  AND  BIOLOGY  55 

4.  The  last  and  perhaps  the  most  important  distinc- 
tion is,  that  while  in  the  body  of  an  animal,  only  a 
special  tissue  is  endowed  with  feeling,  in  society  all  the 
members  are  endowed  "ndth  feeling.  Even  this  distinc- 
tion, however,  is  by  no  means  a  complete  one.  For  in 
some  of  the  lowest  animals,  characterized  by  the  absence 
of  a  nervous  system,  such  sensitiveness  as  exists  is  pos- 
sessed by  all  parts.  It  is  only  in  the  more  organized 
forms  that  feeling  is  monopolized  by  one  class  of  the 
vital  elements.  Moreover,  we  must  remember  that  socie- 
ties, too,  are  not  without  a  certain  differentiation  of  this 
kind.  Though  the  units  of  a  community  are  all  sensi- 
tive, yet  they  are  so  in  unequal  degrees.  The  classes 
engaged  in  agriculture  and  laborious  occupations  in  gen- 
eral are  much  less  susceptible,  intellectually  and  emo- 
tionally, than  the  rest;  and  especially  less  so  than  the 
classes  of  highest  mental  culture.  Still,  we  have  here 
a  tolerably  decided  contrast  between  bodies  politic  and 
individual  bodies.  And  it  is  one  which  we  should  keep 
constantly  in  view.  For  it  reminds  us  that  while  in  in- 
dividual bodies  the  welfare  of  all  other  parts  is  rightly 
subservient  to  the  welfare  of  the  nervous  system,  whose 
pleasurable  or  painful  activities  make  up  the  good  or 
evil  of  life ;  in  bodies  politic  the  same  thing  does  not 
hold,  or  holds  to  but  a  very  slight  extent.  It  is  well 
that  the  lives  of  all  parts  of  an  animal  should  be  merged 
in  the  life  of  the  whole ;  because  the  whole  has  a  coi'])0- 
rate  consciousness  capable  of  happiness  or  misery.  But 
it  is  not  so  with  a  society,  since  its  living  units  do  not 
and  cannot  lose  individual  consciousness,  and  since  the 
community  as  a  whole  has  no  corporate  consciousness. 
And  this  is  an  everlasting  reason  why  the  welfare  of 
citizens  cannot  rightly  be  sacrificed  to  some  supposed 
benefit  of  the  state,  but  wliy,  on  the  other  hand,  tlio  state 
is  to  be  maintained  solely  for  the  benefit  of  citizens. 


56  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  part  i 

The  corporate  life  must  here  be  subservient  to  the  lives 
of  the  parts,  instead  of  the  lives  of  the  parts  being  sub- 
servient to  the  corporate  life.^ 

Such  are  the  main  agreements  and  disagreements 
between  society  and  an  organism,  as  Mr.  Spencer 
sees  them,  and  it  will  be  noticed  that  the  greater 
part  of  the  disagreements  are  virtually  explained 
away.  He  goes  much  farther  into  the  subject  in 
the  remaining  portion  of  the  article,  and  even  at- 
tempts to  find  and  enumerate  the  specific  homo- 
logues  in  animal  organisms  of  many  of  the  economic 
functions  of  society.  Thus,  "  profit  answers  to  the 
excess  of  nutrition  over  waste  in  a  living  body;  " 
"  the  distributing  apparatus  of  a  society  answers  to 
the  distributing  apparatus  of  a  living  body;  "  he 
points  out  the  "  analogy  which  exists  between  the 
blood  of  a  living  body  and  the  circulating  mass  of 
commodities  in  the  body  politic,"  and  likens  money 
to  the  blood-corpuscles.  The  arteries  and  veins 
correspond  to  the  great  rivers,  railroads,  and  wagon 
roads.  He  treats  the  nervous  system  last,  and 
rightly  correlates  it  with  government,  but  he  seems 
to  lose  himself  in  the  less  important  aspects  of  this 
subject,  so  that  one  is  led  to  suspect  that  he  fears  to 
face  it  in  its  main  aspects.  In  a  footnote  on  page 
305  he  makes  the  significant  admission  that  "  if  any 
specific  comparison  were  made,  which  it  cannot 
rationally  be,    it   would   be    to    some    much    lower 

1  Essays,  etc.,  New  York,  1891,  pp.  272  ff. 


ciiAP.  Ill  SOCIOLOGY  AND  BIOLOGY  57 

vertebrate  form  than  the  human."  This  admission, 
taken  in  connection  with  the  one  already  quoted, 
that  society  corresponds  to  the  stage  of  animal 
development  represented  by  the  Protococci,  Nos- 
tocece,  and  ThalassicoUce,  "the  primitive  form  of  all 
organization,"  are  quite  in  line  with  the  position 
which  I  have  been  compelled  to  take  on  the  ques- 
tion of  a  social  organism ;  but  we  are  certainly 
indebted  to  Mr.  Spencer  for  this  masterly  essay. 
No  one  else  has  set  forth  this  important  subject 
with  any  such  an  array  of  illustration  as  this, 
and  only  thus  could  it  be  rendered  worthy  of  seri- 
ous consideration  on  the  part  of  sociologists.  But 
with  sucli  a  presentation  they  are  in  position  to  take 
it  up  and  consider  its  claims. 

The  one  trutli  with  which  scarcely  any  one  can 
help  being  impressed  is  the  high  degree  of  coopera- 
tion displayed  among  the  several  functions,  which 
can  only  be  due  to  the  high  degree  of  centralization 
that  lias  been  reached  even  in  the  least  developed 
of  the  true  organisms,  such  as  are  referable  to  any 
of  the  great  groups  recognized  by  zoologists.  That 
is  to  say,  all  these  organs  perform  their  functions 
under  one  central  control.  Mr.  Spencer  seems  to 
have  been  so  much  impressed  by  the  harmonies  he 
discovers  in  the  details  that  he  practically  lost  sight 
of  this  important  truth.  It  was  not  that  he  was  not 
fully  aware  of  it,  for  it  is  more  to  him  tlian  any  one 
else  that  we  owe  the  formulation  of  tlie  great  law 
that  organic  development  proceeds  by  differentiation 


58  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  part  I 

and  integration  —  that  in  proportion  as  the  parts 
are  multiplied  they  must  be  made  subordinate  to 
the  whole.  What  he  failed  to  see  in  his  thorough 
comparison  of  an  organism  with  society  was  that 
while  the  differentiations  are  often  very  similar 
there  is  very  little  resemblance  in  the  degree  of 
integration. 

Professor  Huxley  was  quick  to  seize  upon  this 
omission,  and  in  a  lecture  entitled  "  Administrative 
Nihilism "  ^  he  dealt  him  some  very  heavy  blows. 
The  vulnerable  point,  as  he  clearly  saw,  in  Mr. 
Spencer's  argument  was  that  in  which  he  undertook 
to  institute  comparisons  with  the  nervous  system  of 
animals.  Applying  himself  directly  to  this  point, 
he  said :  — 

Mr.  Spencer  shows  with  what  singular  closeness  a 
parallel  between  the  development  of  a  nervous  system, 
which  is  the  governing  power  of  the  body  in  the  series 
of  animal  organisms,  and  that  of  government,  in  the 
series  of  social  organisms,  can  be  drawn :  — 

"  Strange  as  the  assertion  will  be  thought,"  says  Mr. 
Spencer,  "our  Houses  of  Parliament  discharge  in  the 
social  economy  functions  that  are,  in  sundry  respects, 
comparable  to  those  discharged  by  the  cerebral  masses  in 
a  vertebrate  animal.  .  .  .  The  cerebrum  coordinates  the 
countless  heterogeneous  considerations  which  affect  the 
present  and  future  welfare  of  the  individual  as  a  whole ; 
and  the  legislature  coordinates  the  countless  heterogene- 

1  An  Address  to  the  Members  of  the  Midland  Institute,  October 
9,  1871.  Fortnightly  Beview,  New  Series,  Vol.  X.,  November  1, 
1871,  pp.  626-543. 


CHAP.  Ill  SOCIOLOGY  AND  BIOLOGY  59 

ous  considerations  which  affect  the  immediate  and  remote 
welfare  of  the  whole  community.  We  may  describe  the 
office  of  the  brain  as  that  of  averaging  the  interests  of 
life,  physical,  intellectual,  moral,  social;  and  a  good 
brain  is  one  in  which  the  desires,  answering  to  their 
respective  interests,  are  so  balanced  that  the  conduct 
they  jointly  dictate  sacrifices  none  of  them.  Similarly 
we  may  describe  the  office  of  Parliament  as  that  of 
averaging  the  interests  of  the  various  classes  in  a  com- 
munity; and  a  good  Parliament  is  one  in  which  the 
parties  answering  to  these  respective  interests  are  so 
balanced  that  their  united  legislation  concedes  to  each 
class  as  much  as  consists  with  the  claims  of  the  rest." 

All  this  appears  to  be  very  just.  But  if  the  re- 
semblance between  the  body  physiological  and  the  body 
politic  is  any  indication,  not  only  of  what  the  latter  is, 
and  how  it  has  become  what  it  is,  but  of  what  it  ought 
to  be,  and  what  it  is  tending  to  become,  I  cannot  but 
think  that  the  real  force  of  the  analogy  is  totally  op- 
posed to  the  negative  view  of  state  function. 

Suppose  that  in  accordance  with  this  view,  each  muscle 
were  to  maintain  that  the  nervous  system  had  no  right  to 
interfere  Avith  its  contraction,  except  to  prevent  it  from 
hindering  the  contraction  of  another  muscle;  or  each 
gland  that  it  had  a  right  to  secrete,  so  long  as  its  se- 
cretion interfered  with  no  other ;  suppose  every  separate 
cell  left  free  to  follow  its  own  ''interests,"  and  laissez 
faire,  Lord  of  all,  what  would  become  of  the  body 
physiological  ? 

The  fact  is,  that  the  sovereign  power  of  the  body 
thinks  for  the  physiological  organism,  acts  for  it,  and 
rules  the  individual  components  with  a  rod  of  iron. 
Even  the  blood-corpuscles  cannot  hold  a  public  meeting 
without  being  accuscnl  of  "congestion"  —  and  the  brain, 
like  other  despots  whom  we  have  known,  calls  out  at  once 


6o  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  part  i 

for  tlie  use  of  sharp  steel  against  them.  As  in  Hobbes's 
"  Leviathan,"  the  representative  of  the  sovereign  author- 
ity in  the  living  organism,  though  he  derives  all  his 
powers  from  the  mass  which  he  rules,  is  above  the  law. 
The  questioning  of  his  authority  involves  death,  or  that 
partial  death  which  we  call  paralysis.  Hence,  if  the 
analogy  of  the  body  politic  with  the  body  physiological 
counts  for  anything,  it  seems  to  me  to  be  in  favor  of  a 
much  larger  amount  of  governmental  interference  than 
exists  at  present,  or  than  I,  for  one,  at  all  desire  to  see.^ 

This  criticism  of  Professor  Huxley  has  never  been 
ansvv^ered  simply  because  it  is  unanswerable.  Mr. 
Spencer's  subsequent  attempt  to  answer  it  ^  must  be 
regarded  as  an  entire  failure. 

This  discussion  leads  to  the  final  aspect  of  the 
whole  question  and  the  one  upon  which  I  would 
especially  insist.  It  is  that  the  nervous  system, 
instead  of  being  the  last  to  be  considered  in  a  com- 
parison of  society  with  an  organism,  is  the  first  and 
only  proper  term  of  comparison.  All  the  other 
terms,  those  upon  which  Mr.  Spencer  has  laid  the 
principal  stress,  furnish  only  "  analogies,"  as  he 
properly  calls  them.  This,  on  the  contrary,  fur- 
nishes true  homologies.  Analogies  are  of  little  use 
except  in  arousing  and  satisfying  curiosity,  but 
homologies    are   valuable    aids    to   the    sociologist. 

1  Loc.  cit.,  pp.  534-535.  Also  :  Critiques  and  Addresses,  London, 
1873,  pp.  17-18. 

2  Specialized  Administration,  Fortnightly  Review,  December, 
1871.  Becent  Discussions  in  Science,  Philosophy,  and  Morals,  New 
York,  1882,  pp.  235-279. 


CHAP.  Ill  SOCIOLOGY  AND  BIOLOGY  6 1 

The  nervous  system,  as  the  reservoir  of  protoplasm 
and  seat  of  life,  sensibility,  will,  and  ideas,  is  a 
fundamental  factor.  Everything  in  an  organism 
depends  upon  it.  It  antedates  and  has  alone  made 
possible  all  the  other  systems  of  an  organized  body. 
It  controls  them  all  absolutely,  and  without  it  the 
rest  would  all  instantly  cease. 

What,  then,  is  the  result  of  a  comparison  of 
society  with  an  organism  from  this  point  of  view  ? 
Where  in  the  scale  of  animal  development  shall  we 
find  an  organism  at  the  same  stage  of  integration  as 
that  which  society  now  occupies?  As  Professor 
Huxley  shows,  the  strongest  advocate  of  state  con- 
trol, the  most  extreme  socialist,  would  shrink  from 
the  contemplation  of  any  such  absolutism  as  that 
exercised  by  the  central  ganglion  of  even  the  lowest 
of  the  recognized  Metazoa.  In  order  to  find  a  stage 
comparable  to  that  occupied  by  society  with  respect 
to  the  central  contrti  of  the  functions  of  life  it  is 
necessary  to  go  down  among  the  Protozoa  and  study 
those  peculiar  groups  of  creatures  that  live  in  col- 
onies so  adapted  that  while  the  individuals  are  free 
to  act  as  they  please  within  certain  limits,  they  are 
still  imperfectly  bound  together  by  protoplasmic 
threads,  to  such  an  extent  that  they  are  in  a  meas- 
ure subordinate  to  the  mass  thus  combined,  and 
really  act  as  a  unit  or  body.  Between  this  stage 
and  that  of  the  more  or  less  complete  union  of  these 
individuals  into  something  analogous  to  tissue,  with 
a  growing  differentiation  of   organs  and   functions, 


62  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  part  i 

all  intermediate  stages  exist,  at  least  theoretically, 
and  the  different  human  societies  must  be  respec- 
tively compared  with  these  successive  animal  stages 
on  this  low  plane  of  life. 

Looked  at  from  this  point  of  view  society  may  be 
with  much  truth  regarded  as  an  organism,  but  it  is 
obviously  a  very  low  form  of  organism.  We  are 
thus  strikingly  impressed  with  the  great  relative 
imperfection  of  society,  and  at  the  same  time  we  are 
furnished  with  the  means  of  seeing  more  clearly 
than  in  any  other  way  the  true  relation  of  sociol- 
ogy to  biology.  The  sociologist  is  dealing  with  an 
undeveloped  stage  of  a  great  series  of  phenomena, 
and  he  may  well  ask  himself  the  question  :  If  such 
an  inchoate  being  is  capable  of  accomplishing  such 
results  as  have  been  accomplished  by  the  social 
organism,  what  may  we  not  expect  when,  under  the 
great  law  of  development  operating  throughout 
the  organic  world,  this  social  ^organism  shall  have 
attained  even  the  lower  stages  of  integration  mani- 
fested in  the  humbler  animal  creatures  with  which 
we  are  all  familiar?  And  when  we  shrink  with  a 
sense  of  dread  from  the  idea  of  any  such  state  of 
social  centralization,  it  is  because  we  fail  to  real- 
ize the  possibility  of  a  homogeneous  development 
throughout  all  the  parts  of  society,  including  the 
necessary  modification  in  the  character  of  its  indi- 
vidual members,  to  adapt  them  to  such  a  regime  of 
subordinate  cooperation  in  the  grand  scheme.  We 
fail   to  realize,  on  the  one  hand,  the   possibility  of 


CHAP.  Ill  SO CIOL OGY  AND  BIOL OGY  63 

the  central  control  being  absolutely  devoted  to  the 
welfare  of  the  whole,  as  the  animal  consciousness  is 
devoted  to  the  welfare  of  the  animal ;  and  we  fail  to 
realize,  on  the  other  hand,  the  possibility  of  the  will- 
ing obedience  of  every  individual  to  the  authority 
of  the  social  centre,  for  his  own  good,  in  the  same 
way  that  every  part  of  the  body  willingly  submits 
to  the  authority  of  consciousness  in  its  own  inter- 
ests. When  we  can  rise  to  the  position  of  divesting 
ourselves  of  these  crude  prejudices,  due  to  our  nar- 
row range  of  vision,  and  our  inability  to  realize  that 
what  is  now,  need  not  always  be,  then  will  it  be 
possible  for  the  student  of  human  society  to  look 
forward  over  the  possible  future,  aided  by  the  light 
which  he  receives  from  looking  backward  over  the 
known  past. 


CHAPTER   IV 

RELATION  OF   SOCIOLOGY  TO  ANTHROPOLOGY  i 

Almost  any  subject  may  be  classified  in  more 
than  one  way.  Anthropology  is  the  science  of  man, 
and  taken  in  its  broadest  sense  it  embraces  every- 
thing that  concerns  the  human  race.  It  first  re- 
ceived prominence  at  the  hands  of  Paul  Broca,  the 
eminent  student  of  man  in  his  physical  relations. 
Owing  to  his  influence,  it  was  long  restricted  to  the 
study  of  the  human  body;  but  so  appropriate  a  term 
could  not  be  thus  bound  down,  and  to-day  it  has 
come  to  receive  the  broadest  meaning  of  which  it 
admits.  The  Anthropological  Society  of  Washing- 
ton, which  was  founded  in  1879,  introduced  into  its 
constitution  the  following  classification  of  the  sci- 
ence :  — 

1.  Somatology;  2.  Sociology;  3.  Philology; 
4.  Philosophy;  5.  Psychology  ;  and  6.  Technology. 
These  subdivisions  were  adopted,  after  prolonged 
and  careful  consideration,  by  such  men  as  Major  J. 
W.  Powell,  Director  of  the  United  States  Bureau  of 
Ethnology,    Colonel  Garrick  Mallery,  the  eminent 

1  American  Anthropologist,  Vol.  VIII.,  "Washington,  July,  1895, 
pp.  241-256 ;  American  Journal  of  Sociology,  Vol.  I.,  No,  4,  Chi- 
cago, January,  1896,  pp.  420-433. 

64 


CHAP.  IV        SOCIOLOGY  AND  ANTHROPOLOGY  65 

student  of  sign  language  and  kindred  subjects,  and 
Professor  Otis  T.  Mason,  Curator  of  Ethnology  for  the 
United  States  National  Museum.  It  has  been  found 
during  nineteen  years'  experience  that  every  subject 
proper  to  be  brought  before  the  Society  could  be 
classed  under  some  one  of  these  heads. 

Here,  as  will  be  seen,  sociology  is  made  a  subdi- 
vision of  anthropology,  and  properly  so;  but  this 
does  not  in  any  way  invalidate  an  entirely  different 
classification  in  which  sociology  is  made  the  generic 
science,  and  anthropology  is  looked  upon  as  in  some 
sense  a  part  of  sociology.  It  all  depends  upon  the 
point  of  view.  As  man  is  the  being  with  whom 
sociology  deals,  that  science,  of  course,  belongs  to 
the  science  of  man ;  but  if  we  look  upon  sociology 
as  embracing  everything  relating  to  associated  man, 
a  large  part  of  tlie  facts  and  phenomena  of  anthro- 
pology overlap  upon  its  domain,  and  it  becomes 
important  to  consider  the  relations  subsisting  among 
these  phenomena.  Moreover,  the  phenomena  of 
association  are  not  exclusively  confined  to  man. 
Sociologists  are  coming  to  pay  more  and  more  atten- 
tion to  phenomena  among  animals  analogous  to  those 
displayed  by  men,  and  animal  association  is  a  well- 
known  fact  which  is  receiving  increased  attention; 
so  that  sociology  is  not  wholly  included  in  any  view 
of  anthropology. 

But  when  we  examine  the  two  sciences  closely  we 
perceive  that  they  differ  generically.  Anthropology, 
in  dealing  with  man  —  t.g.,  with  a  particular  being 


66  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  part  i 

or  species  of  animal  —  is  primarily  a  descriptive 
science.  It  is  not  concerned  with  laws  or  princi- 
ples, but  with  material  facts.  Sociology,  on  the 
contrary,  deals  primarily  with  association  and  what- 
ever conduces  to  it  or  modifies  it.  But  association 
is  not  a  material  thing;  it  is  a  condition,  and  the 
science  that  deals  with  it  is  chiefly  concerned  with 
the  laws  and  principles  that  produce  and  affect  that 
condition.  In  short,  while  anthropology  is  essen- 
tially a  concrete  science,  sociology  is  essentially  an 
abstract  science.  The  distinction  is  very  nearly  the 
same  as  between  biology  and  zoology,  except  that 
anthropology  is  restricted  to  a  single  species  of 
animal.  Thus  viewed,  it  is  clear  that  it  becomes 
simply  a  branch  of  zoology  with  classificatory  rank 
below  ornithology,  entomology,  mammalogy,  etc. 
There  is  no  other  single  species  or  even  genus  that 
has  been  made  the  subject  of  a  distinct  science,  as 
might  obviously  be  done  —  e.^.,  hippology,  the  sci- 
ence of  the  horse,  or  cynology,  the  science  of  the 
dog. 

It  comes,  however,  wholly  within  the  province  of 
social  philosophy  to  inquire  into  the  nature  of  this 
being,  man,  whose  associative  habits  form  the  chief 
subject  of  sociology.  First  of  all,  his  position  in 
the  animal  world  needs  to  be  understood.  No  pos- 
sible good  can  come  from  ignoring  the  true  relations 
of  man  to  the  humbler  forms  of  life  around  him, 
while,  on  the  other  hand,  if  this  relation  is  correctly 
understood,  it  furnishes  one  of  the  principal  means 


CHAP.  IV        SOCIOL OGY  AND  ANTHR OPOL OGY  6/ 

by  which  man  can  learn  to  know  himself.  Accept- 
ing, therefore,  the  conclusions  of  the  masters  in 
zoology,  among  whom,  as  to  the  main  points,  there 
are  no  longer  any  differences  of  opinion,  we  must 
contemplate  man  simply  as  the  most  favored  of  all 
the  "favored  races"  that  have  struggled  up  from  a 
remote  and  humble  origin.  His  superiority  is  due 
almost  exclusively  to  his  extraordinary  brain  devel- 
opment. 

Very  few  have  seriously  reflected  upon  the  natural 
consequences  of  this  one  characteristic  —  a  highly 
developed  brain.  Without  inquiring  how  it  hap- 
pened that  the  creature  called  man  was  singled  out 
to  become  the  recipient  of  this  extraordinary  endow- 
ment, we  may  safely  make  two  fundamental  proposi- 
tions, which  tend  to  show  that  this  question  is  not 
as  important  as  it  seems.  The  first  is  that  if  the 
developed  brain  had  been  awarded  to  any  one  of  the 
other  animals  of  nearly  the  same  size  of  man,  that 
animal  would  have  dominated  the  earth  in  much  the 
same  way  that  man  does.  The  other  is  that  a  large 
part  of  what  constitutes  the  physical  superiority  of 
man  is  directly  due  to  his  brain  development. 

As  to  tlie  first  of  these  pro])ositi()ns,  it  is  true  that 
man  belongs  systematically  to  the  highest  class  of 
animals,  the  placental  Mammalia.  It  would  liave 
look(j(l  somewhat  anomalous  to  the  zoologist  if  he 
had  discovered  tliat  the  dominant  race  to  whicli  ho 
belonged  must  be  classed  below  many  of  the  creatures 
over  which  he  held  sway,  as  would  have  been  the 


68  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  part  i 

case  if  the  organ  of  knowing  had  been  conferred,  for 
example,  upon  some  species  of  large  bird  or  reptile ; 
but  in  fact  something  a  little  less  anomalous,  but  of 
the  same  kind,  actually  occurs.  The  line  along 
which  man  has  descended  is  not  regarded  by  zoolo- 
gists as  by  any  means  the  most  highly  developed 
line  of  the  mammalian  class.  It  is  a  very  short  line 
and  leads  directly  back  through  the  apes  and  lemurs 
to  the  marsupials  and  monotremes,  animals  of  much 
lower  systematic  order,  the  last  named  forming  a 
partial  transition  to  birds.  Most  of  the  other  devel- 
oped mammals,  such  as  the  Carnivora  and  Ungulata, 
have  a  much  longer  ancestry,  and  have  really  attained 
a  far  higher  stage  of  development.  In  the  matter  of 
digits  it  is  maintained  that  true  progress  is  charac- 
terized by  a  reduction  in  their  number,  and  that  the 
highest  stage  is  not  reached  until  they  are  reduced 
to  one,  as  in  the  horse.  In  this  respect  man  is  a 
slight  advance  upon  the  apes  in  having  lost  the 
thumbs  of  his  feet.  No  one  can  deny  that  the  power 
of  flight  would  have  been  an  immense  advantage  to 
man,  yet  few  mammals  possess  this  power,  and  it  is 
chiefly  confined  to  creatures  of  low  organization. 

It  is  difficult  to  conceive  of  a  being  entirely  differ- 
ent in  form  from  man  taking  the  place  that  he  has 
acquired;  but  if  any  one  of  the  structurally  higher 
races  possessed  the  same  brain  development  it  would 
have  had  the  same  intelligence,  and  although  its 
achievements  would  doubtless  have  been  very  differ- 
ent from  his,  they  would  have  had  the  same  rank 


CHAP.  IV        SOCIOLOGY  AND  ANTHROPOLOGY  69 

and  secured  for  that  race  the  same  mastery  over 
animate  and  inanimate  nature.  This  will  become 
clearer  when  we  consider  the  second  of  the  above 
propositions,  which  we  may  now  proceed  to  do. 

To  what  extent  has  brain  development  reacted 
upon  man's  physical  nature?  I  cannot,  of  course, 
go  fully  into  this  question  here,  but  nothing  is  better 
known  to  anatomists  than  that  the  erect  posture  is 
not  the  natural  or  primary  one.  It  has  been  acquired 
by  man  within  comparatively  recent  time.  It  is  a 
legitimate  inference  that  it  is  chiefly  due  to  brain 
development:  physiologically  as  a  means  of  support- 
ing the  enlarged  and  correspondingl}^  heavier  head, 
which  it  would  be  difficult  to  carry  in  the  horizontal 
position,  and  psychologically  as  the  natural  result 
of  a  growing  intelligence  and  self-consciousness, 
which  seeks  to  lift  the  head  and  raise  it  to  a  posi- 
tion from  which  it  can  command  its  surroundings. 
It  is  a  common  observation  that  those  persons  who 
possess  the  greatest  amount  of  self-esteem  stand 
straightest,  and  it  is  this  same  principle  that  has 
operated  from  the  beginning  to  bring  the  human 
body  more  and  more  nearly  into  a  vertical  position. 

Pari  passu  with  this  process  has  gone  on  tlie 
diminution  of  the  craniofacial  angle.  Tlie  same 
influences  that  tended  to  raise  tlic  body  fi-om  tlie 
liorizontal  to  the  vertical  position  tended  also  to  carry 
the  brain  and  upper  part  of  the  face  forward  and  the 
jaws  and  mouth  l)ack\vard.  It  is  not  claimed  that 
this   reaction    of   the   develo[)ing   intelligence   upon 


70  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  part  i 

the  physical  form  is  sufficient  alone  to  account  for 
the  development  of  the  entire  tj^pe  of  physical 
beauty  attained  by  the  most  advanced  human  races. 
-^Esthetic  considerations  are  needed  to  complete  the 
process,  and  especially  the  powerful  aid  of  sexual 
selection;  but  even  the  sense  of  beauty  must  be  in 
great  part  ascribed  to  mental  increase  and  refinement. 
Nothing  is  more  certain  than  that  the  faculty  of 
speech  is  a  product  of  intelligence.  Both  by  direct 
effort  and  by  hereditary  selection  the  organs  of  speech 
received  increment  after  increment  of  adaptation  to 
this  end.  The  means  of  intercommunication  was 
the  indispensable  requirement,  and  this  would  be 
secured  by  any  intelligent  creature,  no  matter  what 
the  physical  organization  might  be.  Oral  speech  is 
by  no  means  the  only  way  in  which  such  intercom- 
munication is  secured,  and  even  if  no  organs  had 
existed  by  which  sound  could  be  produced,  some 
other  means  would  have  been  adopted.  But  man 
possessed  sound-producing  organs  in  common  with 
nearly  all  animals.  There  is  no  evidence  that  he 
was  specially  favored  in  this  respect.  In  developed 
man  the  larynx  is  more  complicated  than  in  most 
mammals ;  but  this  may  be  comparatively  recent. 
In  many  animals  it  is  greatly  specialized.  In  birds 
it  is  far  more  elaborate  than  in  man,  being  double 
and  sometimes,  as  in  the  crane,  enormously  elongated 
and  coiled  into  a  trumpet.  Who  can  doubt  that 
with  such  an  organ  all  birds  could  talk  if  they  pos- 
sessed ideas  to  communicate  ?     The  parrot  and  many 


CHAP.  IV        SOCIOLOGY  AND  ANTHROPOLOGY  7 1 

other  birds  actually  do  distinctly  articulate  the  words 
of  human  speech  by  imitation,  but  they  lack  the  power 
to  clothe  them  with  thought.  It  would  be  easy 
to  add  a  great  number  of  other  proofs  of  the  all- 
sufficiency  of  the  one  leading  characteristic  of  the 
human  species  —  his  superior  brain  development  — 
to  account  for  all  the  important  features  that  dis- 
tinguish him  from  the  lower  animals,  but  those 
already  mentioned  must  suffice  in  this  place. 

Before  leaving  the  general  subject  of  the  relation 
of  man  to  the  lower  animals,  it  may  be  well  to 
inquire  more  specifically  into  the  qualities  that  are 
alleged  to  be  distinctively  human.  As  sociology 
deals  chiefly  with  man,  it  is  desirable  to  arrive,  as 
nearly  as  possible,  at  a  correct  idea  of  what  man  is 

—  not  the  loose  conventional  idea  which,  as  we  have 
just  seen,  is  not  only  crude  but  in  great  degree  false 

—  but  a  true  and  fundamental  idea,  based  on  attri- 
butes that  are  not  superficial,  but  that  lie  deep  in  his 
essential  nature.  Even  if  we  are  obliged  to  conclude 
that  there  is  no  direction  in  which  man's  superiority 
is  not  quantitative  rather  than  qualitative,  — ^.e.,  a 
matter  of  degree  rather  than  of  kind,  —  it  will  be 
worth  while  to  consider  this  difference  of  degree. 
There  are  no  hard  and  fast  lines  in  nature,  and  the 
greatest  leaps  that  seem  to  have  been  taken  in  cosmic 
evolution  are  such  only  when  statically  considered, 
and  blend  together  when  viewed  in  their  dynamic  01 
historical  aspects. 


72  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  part  i 

Nothing  is  more  frequently  met  with  in  literature 
than  the  statement  that  some  particular  quality 
under  consideration  constitutes  an  essential  distinc- 
tion between  man  and  the  lower  animals.  I  have 
for  many  years  been  accumulating  such  statements, 
most  of  which  readily  yield  to  analysis.  A  few, 
however,  are  worthy  of  serious  consideration,  and 
we  shall  see  whether  the  claim  that  there  exists 
anything  distinctively  human  can  be  regarded  as 
established.  It  is  difficult  to  classify  all  these 
alleged  distinctively  human  attributes  in  any  logical 
order.  I  shall  exclude,  except  in  their  collateral 
bearings,  all  physical  differences  and  confine  myself 
to  those  which  can  be  called  mental  in  the  broad 
sense  of  the  word.  Thus  circumscribed  the  natural 
subdivision  would  seem  to  be  into  affective  and 
intellectual  qualities ;  but  in  attempting  such  a  sub- 
division I  encounter  many  difficulties  arising  out  of 
the  interaction  of  these  two  great  departments  of  the 
mind.  Indeed,  from  what  has  already  been  said,  it 
is  obvious  that  the  great  distinction  is  intellectual, 
and  that  the  developing  intellect  has  reacted  alike 
upon  the  physical  form  and  the  nervous  system 
(sensory  and  emotional  apparatus).  If  I  were  simply 
continuing  the  preceding  argument  and  seeking  to 
show  that  increased  brain  development  is  adequate 
also  to  account  for  observed  psychic  modifications  I 
should,  of  course,  reverse  the  order  here  employed ; 
but  that  would  perhaps  be  too  much  to  prejudge  the 
case.      I  shall  therefore  consider  the   lower  facul- 


CHAP.  IV        SOCIOLOGY  AND  ANTHROPOLOGY  y$ 

ties  first  and  endeavor  to  rise  successively  in  the 
scale. 

One  of  the  most  modest  claims  is  that  of  Comte, 
that  it  is  only  in  man  that  we  find  the  purely  vege- 
tative functions  of  life  subordinated  to  the  dis- 
tinctively animal  functions.  The  lower  animals 
and,  as  he  admits,  the  lowest  types  of  men,  accord- 
ing to  this  view,  simply  vegetate  —  i.e.,  they  do 
nothing  but  live  —  while  the  higher  types  of  men 
not  only  live,  but  live  for  something,  are  conscious 
of  living,  which,  he  says,  is  the  noblest  conception 
we  can  form  of  humanity  as  distinct  from  aniniality.^ 

It  is  easy  to  see  that  he  here  refers  to  feeling  as  an 
end  of  life,  but  the  same  logic  which  prevents  him 
from  recognizing  psychology  as  distinct  from  biology 
debars  him  from  saying  this  in  so  many  words. 

Man  is  said  to  be  the  only  animal  that  laughs,  and 
if  we  restrict  laughter  to  the  modifications  made  in 
the  facial  muscles,  this  distinction  is  one  of  the  most 
complete  of  all  that  have  been  insisted  upon.  But 
every  one  knows  that  the  eye  is  strongly  expressive 
of  the  sense  of  amusement,  and  certain  animals,  as 
the  dog,  express  emotions  with  the  eye  that  are 
closely  akin  to  mirth.  But  men  laugh  from  a  num- 
ber of  motives,  among  which  are  joy  and  gladness, 
and  it  is  these  last  that  animals  chiefly  manifest. 
The  psychologic  basis  of  wit  and  humor  is  some- 
thing very  different  from  this,  and  belongs  to  the 
intellectual  group  of  characteristics. 

1  rhil.  Pos.,  3«  ^d.,  1869,  Vol.  III.,  p.  494. 


74  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  part  I 

Crying,  in  the  sense  of  a  vocal  manifestation  of 
the  sensation  of  pain,  is,  of  course,  common  to  man 
and  most  of  the  liigher  animals.  Reptiles,  and  even 
fishes,  also  occasionally  utter  such  sounds ;  but  in 
tlie  sense  of  weeping,  usually  accompanied  by  the 
shedding  of  tears,  crying  is  as  exclusively  a  human 
attribute  as  lauglnng.  Schopenhauer,  than  whom 
no  one  lias  more  acutely  analyzed  the  mind,  denies 
that  we  ever  weep  from  the  pain  experienced,  but 
only  from  its  "repetition  in  reflection,"  and  he 
defines  weeping  as  "sympathy  with  one's  self  or 
sympathy  reflected  back  upon  its  source."^ 

Sympathy  proper  —  i.e.,  sympathy  for  others,  to 
which  the  last  remark  seems  to  lead  —  is  certainly 
not  an  exclusively  human  affection.  While  it  may 
be  a  question  whether  the  defence  of  their  young  by 
nearly  all  animals  is  anything  more  than  an  instinct 
developed  through  natural  selection  for  the  protec- 
tion of  races,  neither  is  it  certain  that  the  same 
instinct  manifested  by  the  human  mother  rises  far 
above  this.  The  pure  article  is  therefore  to  be 
looked  for  between  individuals  that  are  not  bound 
together  by  such  powerful  ties  of  interest ;  but  there 
are  many  accounts  of  what  seems  like  genuine  sym- 
pathy on  the  part  of  dogs,  and  it  is  even  less  doubtful 
in  the  case  of  monkeys. 

Sympathy,  as  the  word  implies,  is  a  real  though 
representative  feeling,  usually  painful,  and  consists 
of  a  "realizing  sense  "  of  suffering  in  another  being. 
1  Welt  als  Wille  u.  Vorst.,  Leipzig,  1859,  Vol.  I.,  p.  445. 


CHAP.  IV        SOCIO  L  OGY  AND  AN  THE  OPOL  OGY  75 

There  are  two  prerequisites  to  the  existence  of  sym- 
path}",  viz.,  the  experience  of  a  similar  pain  to  the 
one  sympathized  with,  and  the  powo'  of  recalling 
the  sensation  experienced.  Still  another  condition 
might  be  added,  which  is  distinct  from  these.  The 
creature  sympathizing  must  be  able  to  derive  from 
the  facts  observed  an  idea  that  the  creature  sympa- 
thized with  is  suffering  pain.  This  last  condition 
is  a  form  of  reasoning,  while  the  remembrance  of 
past  painful  states  requires  some  degree  of  perfection 
in  the  structure  of  the  brain.  It  is  not  therefore 
to  be  wondered  at,  that  only  the  highest  animals  are 
capable  of  manifesting  symj)athy. 

The  question  whether  sympathy  increases  with 
intelligence  has  been  much  discussed.  To  those 
who  hold  that  it  does  so  increase,  it  has  been  an- 
swered that  among  enlightened  people  it  is  not  the 
most  intelligent  who  manifest  the  most  sympathy; 
that  philosophers  and  wise  men  are  often  not  sympa- 
thetic, while  many  women  not  possessed  of  abundant 
wisdom  are  intensely  so.  I  have  never  felt  that  this 
was  a  sufficient  answer,  and  if  this  were  the  proper 
place  I  would  attempt  to  point  out  its  fallacies ;  but 
as  it  does  not  directly  bear  upon  the  question  of 
sympathy  in  animals,  it  must  suffice  to  refer  to  the 
patent  fact  that  altruism  has  steadily  increased  with 
the  progress  of  civilization  —  i.e.,  true  sympathy  is 
almost  directly  proportional  to  intelligence. 

The  quality  which  is  of  course  most  frequently 
referred  to  as  peculiar  to  man  is  what  is  commonly 


^6  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  part  I 

called  the  moral  sense.  It  is  believed  by  many  that 
man  possesses  a  special  faculty  by  which  he  can 
unerringly  distinguish  right  from  wrong.  This,  of 
course,  represents  a  crude  stage  of  philosophy,  in 
which  observation  plays  no  part.  But  some  very 
respectable  philosophers  have  maintained  that  there 
is  an  abstract  right  and  wrong  which  may  be  known 
and  upon  which  a  science  of  pure  ethics  can  be  based. 
Not  to  speak  of  Kant's  rather  obscure  statement  of 
this  doctrine,  it  is  worth  noting  that  Herbert  Spencer 
set  out  from  this  point  of  view  and  defended  it  in  his 
Social  Statics,  but  in  his  later  works  repudiated  it  as 
not  sustained  by  the  great  body  of  facts  that  he  had 
gleaned  from  the  history  of  all  races. 

Paley  maintained  that  the  power  to  distinguish 
good  from  evil  grew  out  of  the  expectation  of  reward 
and  punishment,  and  Darwin  has  shown  that  the 
moral  sense  as  thus  defined  certainly  belongs  to  some 
of  the  higher  animals.  In  most  civilized  men  the 
"categorical  imperative"  is  so  strong  that  it  is  no 
wonder  that  it  should  be  regarded  as  a  special  endow- 
ment of  human  nature ;  but  every  one  knows  in  his 
own  experience  with  the  world  that  there  are  many 
fully  civilized  men  who  lack  the  ethical  sense  on 
certain  subjects,  even  though  it  may  be  fully  devel- 
oped as  regards  all  others.  Who,  for  example,  does 
not  know  certain  persons  who  make  it  a  principle  of 
life  never  to  surrender  money  until  compelled,  what- 
ever may  be  the  obligation  to  do  so?  The  saying 
that  "if  you  wish  to  make  an  enemy  of  a  friend, 


CHAP.  IV        SO CIOL OGY  AND  ANTHR OPOL OGY  y/ 

lend  him  money "  is  based  on  the  common  observa- 
tion that  a  full  moiety  of  mankind  consider  it  a 
hardship  to  have  to  return  money  that  they  have 
borrowed  and  used  without  giving  any  equivalent. 
This  is  only  one  of  a  long  list  of  bad  traits  in  human 
nature,  theso  being  simply  cases  in  which  the  ethical 
sense  is  not  fully  developed.  So  prevalent  is  this 
that  it  is  a  common  remark  that  one  only  occasionally 
finds  a  person  who  is  thoroughly  upright  in  all  mat- 
ters. There  is  a  "screw  loose  "  somewhere  in  almost 
every  one,  so  that  it  is  considered  necessary  to  praise 
one  who  always  does  as  he  should  do. 

Bishop  Whately  strikes  the  keynote  in  the  paren- 
thetical part  of  the  following  remark:  "The  moral 
faculty,  or  power  of  distinguishing  right  from  wrong, 
(which  appears  also  to  be  closely  connected  with 
abstraction,  without  which  it  could  not  exist)  is 
one  of  which  brutes  are  destitute."^ 

It  is  probably  true  that  brutes  are  destitute  of  the 
power  to  represent  the  pains  of  others  to  any  great 
extent,  and  it  is  this  power  that  forms  the  basis  of 
the  moral  sense;  yet  I  have  myself  frequently  ob- 
served in  the  case  of  dogs  which  I  knew  had  never 
themselves  been  shot,  but  had  seen  many  other 
animals  killed  and  wounded  by  shooting,  that  they 
always  recoil  when  a  gun  is  pointed  at  them.  They 
certainly  must  conclude  that  the  gun  if  discharged 
when  pointed  at  them  will  produce  the  same  effect 
on  them  that  it  does  on  other  animals.  There  is  no 
1  Logic,  Appendix  No.  1,  §  xxiii.,  American  edition,  1864,  p.  263. 


78  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  part  i 

room  for  instinct  or  automatism  here,  and  I  cannot 
doubt  that  they  actually  represent  to  themselves  the 
])ain  that  they  see  Avounded  animals  manifest.  What 
impressions  they  may  derive  from  the  frequent  sight 
of  animals  thus  rendered  lifeless  is  only  a  matter  for 
speculation,  but  there  is  no  doubt  that  one  of  the 
lirst  facts  about  which  a  dawning  intellect  would 
reflect  is  death. 

We  may  next  consider  the  faculty  of  volition. 
Says  Dr.  Carpenter:  "Whilst  we  fully  recognize 
the  possession  by  many  of  the  lower  animals  of  an 
intelligence  comparable  (up  to  a  certain  point)  with 
that  of  man,  we  find  no  evidence  that  any  of  them 
have  a  volitional  power  of  directing  their  mental 
operations  at  all  similar  to  his.''^  It  is  not,  of 
course,  denied  that  animals  possess  will  and  are 
governed  by  it  in  their  actions,  but  it  is  supposed 
that  man  has  a  power,  not  possessed  by  them,  of 
deciding  among  many  conflicting  motives  which  one 
to  obey.  This  need  not  necessarily  involve  the 
acceptance  of  the  doctrine  of  free  will  in  the  popular 
sense.  Schopenhauer,  who,  while  defending  a  form 
of  that  doctrine,  denies  the  liherum  arhitrium  indiffe- 
rentice,  remarks :  — 

Although  animal  and  man  are  determined  with  equal 

necessity  by  motives,  man  possesses  over  the  animal  a 

perfect  power  of  choice   (Wahlentscheidung),  which  is 

often  regarded  as  a  freedom  of  the  will,  although  it  is 

Ik 

1  Mental  Physiology,  p.  105. 


CHAP.  IV        SO CIOL OGY  AND  ANTHR OPOLOGY  79 

nothing  but  tlie  possibility  of  a  fully  fought  out  conflict 
betAveen  several  motives,  of  which  the  strongest  necessa- 
rily determines  his  act.^ 

A  discussion  of  the  question  of  free  will  would 
obviously  carry  me  much  too  far  afield ;  but  there  is 
one  aspect  of  this  question  which  is  so  important 
and  so  little  insisted  upon  that  it  may  appropriately 
receive  mention.  I  will  introduce  it  by  quoting  a 
passage  from  that  acute  thinker,  Professor  Joseph 
LeConte.     He  says :  — 

There  are  four  planes  of  matter  raised  one  above  the 
other :  1.  Elements ;  2.  Chemical  compounds ;  3.  Vege- 
tables ;  4.  Animals.  Now,  there  are  also  four  planes  of 
force  similarly  related  to  each  other,  viz.,  physical  force, 
chemical  force,  vitality,  and  will.  .  .  .  With  each  eleva- 
tion there  is  a  peculiar  force  added  to  the  already  exist- 
ing, and  a  peculiar  group  of  phenomena  is  the  result. 
As  matter  only  rises  step  by  step  from  plane  to  plane, 
and  never  two  steps  at  a  time,  so  also  force,  in  its  trans- 
formation into  higher  forms  of  force,  rises  only  step  by 
step.  Physical  force  does  not  become  vital  except  through 
chemical  force,  and  chemical  force  does  not  become  will 
except  through  vital  force.  ...  I  might  add  still  another 
plane  and  another  force,  viz.,  the  human  plane,  on  which 
operate,  in  addition  to  all  the  lower  forces,  also  free  will 
and  reason.^ 

This  just  and  luminous  conception  I  have  myself 
elaborated  in  an  article  on  "The  Natural  Storage 
of  Energy."^     Its   application  here   is  this:  Every 

1  Welt  als  Wille,  Vol.  1.,  I^.'iO-SSl. 
a  Pop.  Sci.  Monthly,  Vol.  IV.,  p.  107. 
»  The  3lonist,  Vol.  V.,  pp.  247-263. 


8o  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  part  l 

creature,  including  man,  is  undoubtedly  determined 
by  this  concourse  and  storage  of  forces,  and  in  this 
sense  a  man's  acts  are  indeed  products  of  his  consti- 
tution ;  but  it  is  possible  to  abstract  all  these  ante- 
cedent agencies  and  contemplate  man  solely  with 
reference  to  the  future.  Looked  at  for  just  what  he 
is,  regardless  of  how  he  became  so,  he  appears  as  a 
source  of  independent  energy,  and  in  this  sense  his 
will  is  free.  But  this  helps  us  little  to  distinguish 
the  human  from  the  animal  will,  for,  except  in  the 
degree  of  this  initiative  power,  the  same  seems  to 
be  true  of  the  one  as  of  the  other.  Dr.  Carpenter 
attempts  to  draw  the  line  between  children  and 
adults;  but  this  is  obviously  to  beg  the  question, 
since  no  age  can  be  fixed  at  which  any  wholly  new 
power  is  added. 

The  last  of  the  affective  faculties  to  be  considered 
is  the  sense  of  beauty.  Have  animals  any  aesthetic 
sentiments  ?  Half  a  century  ago  this  question  would 
have  received  an  almost  unanimous  negative  answer. 
To-day  every  well-informed  person  knows  that  the 
true  answer  is  an  affirmative  one.  The  two  great 
facts  of  sexual  selection  among  animals  and  the 
cross-fertilization  of  flowers  by  insects  have  abun- 
dantly shown  that  nearly  or  quite  all  living  creatures 
have  tastes  and  admire  certain  forms  and  colors. 
Not  only  is  this  so,  but,  while  the  tastes  of  animals, 
like  those  of  men,  differ  widely,  there  is  a  general 
standard  which  is  substantially  the  same  for  both. 
The  ostrich  feathers,  which  are  the  admiration  of  the 


CHAP.  IV        SO CIOL OGY  AND  ANTHR OPOL OGY  8 1 

social  world,  are  the  products  of  a  sense  of  beauty  in 
the  ostrich.  The  peacock,  the  pheasant,  and  the 
bird  of  paradise  owe  their  beauty  to  sexual  selection. 
The  antlers  of  the  stag,  that  can  engage  the  attention 
of  a  Landseer,  are  secondary  sexual  characters,  utterly 
useless  except  as  pure  ornaments  with  which  to  win 
the  favor  of  mates  that  have  created  them  by  with- 
holding their  favors  from  those  in  which  these  orna- 
ments fell  below  their  ideals  of  beauty.  And  what 
is  considered  more  beautiful  than  flowers?  Yet 
every  flower  is  an  expression  of  some  insect's  ideal 
of  beauty ;  otherwise  it  could  never  have  come  into 
existence.  Paleontology  teaches  that  plants  with 
showy  flowers  appeared  on  the  earth  simultaneously 
with  nectar-seeking  insects ;  and  the  more  we  study 
the  flowers  and  insects  now  living,  the  clearer  it 
becomes  that  the  same  process  is  still  going  on, 
determining  size,  form,  color,  and  fragrance. 

But,  it  may  be  said,  man  is  the  only  creature  that 
artificially  adorns  himself.  M.  de  Quatrefages  has 
laid  great  stress  on  this  fact,  and  deservedly  so,  for, 
although  he  did  not  understand  it,  this  involves  one 
of  the  most  important  principles  of  both  anthro- 
pology and  sociology.  The  principle  is  none  other 
than  the  one  upon  which  I  have  so  often  insisted, 
that  the  environment  transforms  the  animal,  while 
man  transforms  the  environment.  Though  it  is 
much  broader  in  its  scope,  we  may  here  restrict  it  to 
the  lesthetic  sense.  Both  animals  and  men  possess 
this  sense.     The  former  satisfy  it  by  acts  which,  in 


82  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  part  1 

the  course  of  generations,  produce  physical  modifica- 
tions in  their  organic  structure.  The  latter,  unwill- 
ing to  wait  the  slow  process  of  organic  change,  create 
the  objects  of  their  admiration.  Bodily  ornamenta- 
tion is  probably  the  earliest  form  in  which  the  aesthetic 
sense  of  man  found  expression.  Strange,  grotesque, 
absurd,  and  even  injurious  as  this  form  of  art  has 
been  in  its  rudest  stages,  it  is  still  the  product  of 
man's  efforts  to  satisfy  whatever  sense  of  beauty  he 
possessed.  In  the  course  of  its  development  it  at 
last  assumes  the  form  of  fine  art,  and  is  extended 
beyond  the  body  and  carried  into  all  the  great  fields 
of  natural  beauty.     Says  Professor  Huxley :  — 

Among  the  many  distinctions  which  have  been  drawn 
between  the  lower  creatures  and  ourselves,  there  is  one 
which  is  hardly  ever  insisted  on.  ...  It  is  this,  that 
while,  among  various  kinds  of  animals,  it  is  possible  to 
discover  traces  of  all  the  other  faculties  of  man,  especially 
the  faculty  of  mimicry,  yet  that  particular  form  of  mim- 
icry which  shows  itself  in  the  imitation  of  form,  either 
by  modeling  or  by  drawing,  is  not  to  be  met  with.  As 
far  as  I  know,  there  is  no  sculpture  or  modeling,  and 
decidedly  no  painting  or  drawing,  of  animal  origin.^ 

This  is  all  very  true,  and  it  certainly  constitutes 
one  of  the  most  trenchant  distinctions  between  men 
and  animals.  Its  explanation  is  not  far  to  seek. 
Having  now  passed  in  review  all  the  more  important 
affective  attributes,  we  may  next  proceed  to  examine 
those  which  belong  to  the  intellectual  side  of  man's 

^  Science  and  Education  Essays,  London,  1893,  pp.  276-277. 


CHAP.  IV        SOCIOLOGY  AND  ANTHROPOLOGY  83 

nature,  in  the  hope  that  they  may  furnish  the  key  to 
the  various  questions  involved  in  the  class  already 
considered. 

First  and  foremost  among  these  stands  the  attribute 
of  rationality.  Do  animals  reason?  This  is  the  old 
question,  and  it  must  be  frankly  admitted  that  the 
answer  which  flows  from  all  the  facts  is  an  affirma- 
tive one,  at  least  so  far  as  concerns  the  most  highly 
developed  animal  races,  especially  those  that  have 
been  longest  associated  with  man,  as  the  dog  and 
horse.  Rats,  too,  which  must  constantly  scheme  to 
escape  from  man,  are  exceedingly  sagacious.  But 
such  wholly  wild  animals  as  wolves  show  scarcely 
less  intelligence,  and  the  wisdom  of  the  elephant  is 
proverbial.  Length  of  life  seems  to  have  much  to 
do  with  it,  and  to  show  that  acquired  experience  is 
utilized  as  it  is  by  man.  Now,  if  we  look  over 
the  whole  field  we  find  that  the  several  affective 
attributes  above  enumerated  and  numerous  others 
chiefly  confined  to  man,  but  faintly  displayed  by 
certain  animals,  are  confined  and  ascribed  to  the 
same  animals  that  are  believed  to  exhibit  the  begin- 
nings of  reason.  Is  there  a  causal  connection  be- 
tween the  two?  I  maintain  that  there  is,  and  that 
the  possession  of  the  affective  powers  is  the  direct 
consequence  of  the  corresponding  power  of  reason. 
In  nearly  every  case  I  have  discussed  I  have  carried 
it  to  the  point  where  this  hypothesis  not  only  would 
apply,  but  seemed  necessary  to  complete  the  exjjlana- 
tion.     We  saw  that  sympathy  and  the  moral  sense 


84  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  PART  I 

in  general  depends  absolutely  upon  a  power  of  repre- 
sentation sufficiently  strong  to  react  upon  the  centres 
of  feeling,  and  this  representative  power  is  purely 
intellectual.  We  saw  that  volition,  to  rise  at  all 
above  the  mere  animal  impulse,  depended  upon  a 
power  of  choice  between  motives,  which  is  nothing 
else  than  to  say  that  foreseen  future  or  remote  bene- 
fits influence  action  more  strongly  than  immediately 
present  ones.  This,  again,  is  a  form  of  reason. 
And  finally  we  saw  that  artistic  production  depends 
upon  the  power  to  frame  and  execute  an  ideal,  and 
therefore  has  entirely  to  do  with  ideas  as  distin- 
guished from  the  mere  feelings  which  actuate  the 
lower  animals. 

In  my  Psychic  Factors^  Part  II.,  I  have  endeavored 
to  set  forth  the  manner  in  which  the  rational  faculty 
took  its  rise,  primarily  as  an  aid  to  the  will  in  better 
securing  the  ends  of  existence,  and  have  then  fol- 
lowed its  progress  through  its  incipient  stages  and 
onward  in  its  remarkable  development  until  it  wholly 
lost  sight  of  this  original  egoistic  function  and  be- 
came the  servant  of  humanity  in  general,  even  to  the 
sacrifice  of  self.  And  it  is  in  these  higher  stages 
that  we  find  the  most  marked  cases  of  purely  human 
powers  — ■  powers  of  which  animals,  even  the  highest, 
scarcely  manifest  a  rudiment.  Language,  properly 
so  called,  consists  of  symbols  for  things,  actions,  and 
relations,  and  these  are  all  rational  abstractions. 
Every  name  or  common  noun  is  an  embodied  idea 
and  may  embrace  any  number   of   individuals.     It 


CHAP.  IV        SO CIOL OGY  AND  ANTHR OPOL OGY  85 

is  doubtful  whether  any  animal  could  perform  the 
mental  operation  required  in  saying  dog,  horse, 
mountain,  river.  All  the  nouns  in  an  animal's  lan- 
guage would  be  proper  nouns,  the  names  of  particu- 
lar dogs,  horses,  mountains,  and  rivers.  The  same 
would  be  true  of  verbs.  Indeed,  the  ruder  human 
languages  show  a  tendency  in  this  direction.  The 
word  go  is  a  very  abstract  term,  and  certain  Indian 
languages  have  no  such  word.  All  verbs  of  going 
must  specify  the  manner  of  going,  as  to  go-over-the- 
mountain,  to  go-to  the  river,  to  go-on  horse-back, 
etc.  — I.e.,  early  languages,  for  want  of  the  power  of 
abstraction  on  the  part  of  the  people  possessing  them, 
become  holophrastic.  Such  people  speak  in  phrases 
instead  of  words.  This  idea  might  be  followed  out 
much  further. 

After  language,  which  is  itself  an  art,  we  find 
man  developing  other  arts,  not  merely  the  arts  of 
decoration,  already  considered,  but  the  arts  of  self- 
protection  and  self-preservation.  These  depend  on 
inventive  power,  which,  though  wholly  rational,  is 
a  power  very  early  developed.  Art  of  every  kind  is 
exclusively  human.  Man  is  the  only  creature  who 
uses  tools.  The  tools  and  weapons  of  all  animals 
are  a  part  of  themselves,  and  are  genetic  products ; 
those  of  man  are  part  of  their  environment,  and  are 
mechanical  products.  Everything  that  pertains  to 
culture  is  of  this  last  class.  Civilization  is  exclu- 
sively artificial  and  exclusively  human.  Art  is 
essentially   teleological  —  i.e.,    it    is    a  product   of 


86  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  part  i 

design  —  and  there  is  no  evidence  that  animals  pos- 
sess this  faculty.  Many  of  the  lower  creatures  do 
indeed  lay  in  stores  for  the  future,  but  it  is  always 
the  result  of  an  instinct  genetically  developed  as  a 
condition  to  survival.  Clustering  round  this  idea 
of  prevision  there  is  a  large  class  of  phenomena 
which  seem  to  be  especially  human.  Besides  pur- 
pose, intention,  and  provision,  there  are  the  states 
known  as  anticipation,  ambition,  and  aspiration, 
which  all  grow  out  of  the  power  to  forecast  the 
future.  It  is  not  believed  that  the  lower  creatures 
live  in  the  future  in  any  such  sense.  They  have 
their  wants,  even  yearnings,  no  doubt,  and  they  have 
expectations,  and  perhaps  hopes,  but  they  have  no 
anticipations  in  the  sense  of  feeling  the  pain  or 
pleasure  of  experiences  that  are  not  present.  This 
is  a  representative  power  which  is  wholly  intel- 
lectual. Men  really  both  suffer  and  enjoy  more  in 
anticipation  than  in  participation.  Imagine  the 
criminal  condemned  to  death,  or,  to  take  a  simpler 
case,  think  how  much  of  the  pain  of  a  surgical  opera- 
tion is  due  to  the  antecedent  realization  of  what 
must  be  undergone.  It  is  the  same  with  enjoy- 
ments, not  merely  the  simpler  physical  ones,  but 
especially  the  remote  mental  ones,  and  the  sacrifices 
of  a  long  and  laborious  life  are  cheerfully  made  in 
anticipation  of  the  foreseen  results. 

Self-consciousness  is  often  referred  to  as  a  distin- 
guishing characteristic  of  man.  Many,  however, 
fail  to  gain  a  clear  conception  of  what  this  faculty 


CHAP.  IV        SO CIOL OGY  AND  ANTHR OPOLOGY  8 / 

is.  Dr.  Carpenter  confounds  it  with  the  "  power  of 
reflecting  on  their  own  mental  states,"^  while  Mr. 
Darwin  associates  it  with  abstraction  and  other  of 
the  derivative  faculties.  It  is  certainly  something 
much  simpler  than  introspection,  and  has  an  earlier 
origin  than  the  highly  derivative  speculative  facul- 
ties. If  it  could  only  be  seized  and  clearly  under- 
stood, self-consciousness  would  doubtless  prove  to 
be  the  primary  and  fundamental  human  attribute. 
Unlike  reason,  it  has  no  roots  in  the  animal  stage; 
but  neither  do  all  men  possess  it.  Our  language 
seems  to  lack  the  proper  word  to  express  it  in  its 
simplest  form.  "Think"  approaches  this  most 
nearly,  and  man  is  sometimes  described  as  a  "think- 
ing being."  The  German  language  has  a  better 
word,  viz.,  hesinnen,  and  the  substantive  Besonnen- 
heit  seems  to  touch  the  kernel  of  the  problem. 
Schopenhauer  says :  — 

The  animal  lives  without  any  BesonnenJieit.  It  has 
consciousness  —  i.e.,  knows  itself  and  its.  weal  and  woe; 
also  the  objects  which  produce  these ;  but  its  knowledge 
remains  constantly  subjective,  never  becomes  objective: 
everything  that  it  embraces  appears  to  exist  in  and  of 
itself,  and  can  therefore  never  become  an  object  of  repre- 
sentation nor  a  problem  for  meditation.  Its  consciousness 
is  thus  wholly  immanent.  The  consciousness  of  the  sav- 
age man  is  similarly  constituted  in  that  his  perc(^ptions 
of  things  and  of  the  world  remain  preponderantly  sub- 
jective and  immanent.  He  perceives  things  in  the  world, 
but  not  the  world;  his  own  actions  and  passions,  but  not 

1  Mental  Physioloyy,  p.  102. 


88  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  part  i 

himself.  As,  now,  through  infinite  gradations  the  light 
of  consciousness  rises,  Besonnenlieit  enters  more  and  more 
into  it,  and  thus  it  gradually  comes  about  that  occasion- 
ally, though  rarely,  and  with  very  different  degrees  of 
clearness,  the  question  flashes  through  his  head,  ''  What 
does  it  all  mean  ?  "  or,  "  How  has  it  been  brought  about  ?  " 
The  first  question,  when  it  attains  great  clearness  and 
persistency,  makes  the  philosopher ;  the  second,  the  artist 
or  poet;  and  thus  the  high  calling  of  both  these  has  its 
roots  in  the  Besonnenheit,  which  first  of  all  springs  from 
the  clearness  with  which  they  become  conscious  of  the 
world,  and  are  thereby  led  to  the  contemplation  of  it. 
But  the  whole  process  is  due  to  the  intellect  gaining  the 
ascendant  and  at  times  breaking  loose  from  the  will, 
whose  servant  it  originally  was.  {Op.  cit.,  Vol.  II.,  pp. 
435,  436.) 

This  self-orientation  or  incipient  reflection  is 
thus  seen  to  be  something  quite  different  from  self- 
consciousness  in  the  usual  sense.  It  is  not  so  much 
self  as  it  is  the  outside  world  of  which  the  intellect 
becomes  conscious.  It  is  not  a  subjective  but  an 
objective  phenomenon,  and  in  so  far  as  self  is  con- 
cerned, it  is  objectively  contemplated  as  part  of  the 
world.  This  early  intellectual  state  is  succeeded  by 
those  higher  powers  of  introspection,  speculation, 
reflection,  abstraction,  and  generalization  which 
characterize  the  developed  mind  of  man,  and  all  this 
is  accompanied  by  the  general  differentiation  of  the 
faculties  and  refinement  of  the  mental  and  moral 
organization  of  the  race.  Among  the  more  impor- 
tant of  these  powers  are  those  of  creating  new  wants 
and   of   increasing  the  supply  necessary  to  satisfy 


CHAP.  IV        SO CIOL OGY  AND  ANTHR OPOL OGY  89 

them.  No  animal  accomplishes  this.  The  animal's 
wants  are  adjusted  by  the  slow  process  of  adaptation 
to  the  sources  of  supply,  and  even  when  these  wants 
are  all  supplied  it  is  not  probable  that  any  higher 
ones  arise.  Not  so  with  man.  The  moment  the 
coarser  and  more  essential  physical  wants  are  sup- 
plied he  feels  new  ones,  both  physical  and  mental, 
arise,  and  he  proceeds  to  supply  these. 

To  what  extent  the  fact  of  association  has  been  a 
factor  in  producing  this  last  fundamental  difference 
between  men  and  animals  is  one  of  the  leading  ques- 
tions in  sociology.  For  my  own  part,  I  am  disposed 
to  attribute  it,  directly  or  indirectly,  almost  wholly 
to  this  cause. 

The  last  question  to  be  discussed  is  whether  there 
is  any  generic  distinction  between  human  and  animal 
association.  Many  animals  are  gregarious  and  some 
lead  a  truly  social  life.  We  all  know  how  most 
domestic  animals  love  to  mingle  with  their  kind. 
The  horse  is  an  exceedingly  social  animal  and  is 
always  uneasy  and  apparently  unhappy  until  in  the 
presence  of  other  horses.  Most  ungulates,  even  in 
the  wild  state,  go  in  flocks  and  herds.  It  is  note- 
worthy that  herbivorous  animals  are  more  gregarious 
than  carnivorous  ones.  Animals  of  the  cat  tribe  are 
scarcely  at  all  so.  Wolves,  it  is  true,  go  in  packs, 
but  it  may  be  a  question  whether  this  is  not  entirely 
due  to  the  advantage  this  gives  them  in  attacking 
their  prey,  which  is  often  an  animal  of  nearly  their 


QO  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  part  i 

own  size,  as  the  sheep.  Many  birds  live  in  flocks, 
sometimes,  as  pigeons,  of  immense  numbers.  Fishes, 
too,  form  "shoals,"  and  insects  swarm. 

The  causes  of  all  these  forms  of  gregariousness  are 
numerous  and  complex.  The  necessities  of  repro- 
duction are  sufficient  to  account  for  a  large  part  of 
it,  and  all  animals  must  associate  enough  to  secure 
this  end.  One  of  the  most  curious  facts  is  that  those 
animals  Avhicli  zoologists  place  nearest  to  man  are 
not  among  the  most  gregarious.  The  habits  of  apes 
and  monkeys  in  the  wild  state  are  not  as  well  known 
as  could  be  wished  in  discussing  this  question,  and 
although  some  of  the  anthropoid  apes  are  known  to  go 
in  troops,  though  not  very  large  ones,  still  this  class 
of  animals  can  scarcely  be  regarded  as  gregarious. 
Although  it  is  admitted  that  none  of  the  living 
forms  could  have  been  the  immediate  ancestor  of 
man,  and  therefore  there  will  always  remain  the 
possibility  that  his  true  simian  ancestor  may  have 
been  a  gregarious  animal,  still  the  probabilities  are 
against  this  view,  and  it  seems  likely  that  through- 
out his  purely  animal  career  man  possessed  the  asso- 
ciative habit  only  so  far  as  was  necessary  for  the 
maintenance  of  the  race. 

Considering  all  these  facts,  I  am  inclined  to  the 
view  that  man  is  not  naturally  a  social  being,  that 
he  has  descended  from  an  animal  that  was  not  even 
gregarious  by  instinct,  and  that  human  society,  like 
so  many  other  facts  that  I  have  been  enumerating,  is 
purely  a  product  of  his  reason  and  arose  by  insensible 


CHAP.  IV        SOCIOLOGY  AND  ANTHROPOLOGY  gr 

degrees,  'pari  passu  with  the  development  of  his 
brain.  In  other  words,  I  regard  human  association 
as  the  result  of  the  perceived  advantage  which  it 
yields,  and  as  coming  into  existence  only  in  propor- 
tion as  that  advantage  was  perceived  by  the  only 
faculty  capable  of  perceiving  it,  the  intellect.  In 
Dynamic  Sociology  I  took  strong  ground  against  the 
Aristotelian  idea  that  man  is  a  gregarious  animal 
and  the  Comtean  doctrine  that  he  is  by  nature  a 
social  being,  and  pointed  out  a  large  number  of  what 
I  called  "anti-social"  qualities  in  his  nature,^  and  I 
also  worked  out  what  I  conceived  must  have  been 
the  several  steps  which  the  race  has  taken  in  its  pas- 
sage from  the  purely  animal  state  to  the  developed 
social  state. 2  I  do  not  adhere  to  that  position  now 
merely  because  I  assumed  it  then,  but  rather  because, 
notwithstanding  the  little  real  evidence,  subsequent 
indications  have  tended  to  confirm  it.  I  will  here 
emphasize  only  one  point.  Human  government  is 
an  art  only  possible  in  a  rational  being.  No  animal 
possesses  a  government  in  any  such  sense.  The 
primary  ol)ject  of  government  is  to  protect  society 
from  just  these  anti-social  influences,  and  it  is  gener- 
ally admitted  that  without  it  society  could  not  exist. 
This  means  that  even  in  the  most  enlightened  peo- 
ples the  anti-social  tendencies  are  still  so  strong  that 
tliey  would  disrupt  society  but  for  an  artificial  system 
of  protection.     To  call  man  of  whom  this  can  be  said 

1  See  Vol.  I.,  pp.  394,  452,  402,  474  ;  Vol.  II.,  pp.  212,  221. 

2  Vol.  I.,  p.  4GG. 


92  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  part  I 

a  social  being  by  nature  is  obviously  absurd.  No 
doubt  strong  social  impulses  exist  among  men,  but 
they  are  the  product  of  ages  of  constraint.  Man  may 
be  in  process  of  becoming  a  social  being,  but  he  will 
not  have  really  become  such  until  it  shall  be  possible 
to  dispense  entirely  with  the  protective  function  of 
government.  Universal  education  and  further  cen- 
turies of  custom  may  ultimately  transform  human 
character  to  this  extent,  until  habit  shall  become  at 
least  a  second  nature  and  accomplish  the  same  result 
that  natural  selection  has  accomplished  in  making 
gregarious  animals  and  social  insects;  but  thus  far 
society,  which  is  the  product  of  the  collective  reason 
working  for  its  own  interests,  is  still  dependent  upon 
the  momentary  exercise  of  that  reason  in  preventing 
its  own  overthrow. 

It  is  for  these  reasons  that  I  am  obliged  to  main- 
tain that  human  society  is  generically  distinct  from 
all  animal  societies.  It  is  essentially  rational  and 
artificial  while  animal  association  is  essentially 
instinctive  and  natural.  The  adaptation  in  the 
former  is  incomplete,  while  in  the  latter  it  is  prac- 
tically complete.  Hence  the  same  principles  do  not 
apply  to  human  and  animal  sociology.  The  latter 
is  essentially  a  biological  study,  and  while  psycho- 
logical considerations  are  potent  in  both,  those  that 
belong  to  animal  sociology  relate  exclusively  to  feel- 
ing while  those  that  belong  to  human  sociology  relate 
chiefly  to  the  intellect.  The  facts  of  animal  asso- 
ciation therefore  —  the  remarkable  resemblances  to 


CHAP.  IV        SO CIOL OGY  AND  ANTHR OPOL OGY  93 

man's  ways  displayed  by  insects  and  the  curious 
imitations  of  human  customs  in  various  departments 
of  the  animal  world  —  prove  to  be  only  analogies  and 
not  true  homologies,  and  as  such  have  much  less 
value  to  the  sociologist  than  they  appear  at  first 
view  to  possess. 


CHAPTER   V 

EELATION  OF  SOCIOLOGY  TO  PSYCHOLOGY  i 

In  our  efforts  to  fix  tlie  true  position  of  sociology 
we  have  now  considered  its  relations  to  cosmology, 
biology,  and  anthropology.  It  remains  to  consider 
its  relations  to  psychology.  The  founder  of  so- 
ciology placed  it  next  above  biology  in  the  scale 
of  diminishing  generality  and  increasing  complexity, 
and  maintained  that  it  had  that  science  as  its  natu- 
ral basis  and  as  the  substratum  into  which  its  roots 
penetrated.  Herbert  Spencer,  although  he  treated 
psychology  as  a  distinct  science  and  placed  it  be- 
tween biology  and  sociology  in  his  system  of  Syn- 
thetic Philosophy,  made  no  attempt  to  affiliate 
sociology  upon  psychology,  while,  on  the  contrary, 
he  did  exert  himself  to  demonstrate  that  it  has 
exceedingly  close  natural  affinities  with  biology, 
as  was  shown  in  the  third  chapter.  At  the  close  of 
that  chapter  the  fact  came  clearly  forth  that  almost 
the  only  legitimate  comparisons  between  society  and 
a  living  organism  were  those  in  which  the  nervous 
system  was  taken  as  the  term  of  comparison.  In 
other  words,  it  was  clear  even  then  that  the  class 

1  American  Journal  of  Sociology,  Vol.  L,  No.  5,  Chicago, 
March,  1896,  pp.  618-632. 

94 


CHAP.  V  SO CIOL OGY  AND  PS YCHOL OGY  95 

of  attributes  in  the  individual  animal  with  which 
those  of  society  could  best  be  compared  were  its 
psychic  attributes.  If  we  are  to  have  a  science  of 
psychology  distinct  from  biology,  these  attributes 
belong  to  that  science,  and  hence  it  is  really  psy- 
chology and  not  biology  upon  which  sociology  di- 
rectly rests.  I  hope  to  show  the  importance  of  this 
truth  both  from  the  purely  logical  and  also  from  the 
wholly  practical  side. 

Psychology,  as  the  science  of  mind,  embraces  the 
entire  field  of  psychic  phenomena.  This  field  is  not 
restricted  to  the  purely  intellectual  operations  which 
have  formed  the  exclusive  subject  of  philosophy 
until  a  quite  recent  date,  nor  even  to  the  more 
enlarged  field  of  the  senses  and  the  intellect  em- 
braced in  more  modern  works;  it  reaches  out  and 
gathers  to  its  fold  that  other,  not  merely  neglected 
but  generally  despised,  field  variously  called  the 
passions,  the  affections,  and  the  emotions.  In  short, 
everything  which  is  not  clearly  a  vital  attribute  — 
is  not  exclusively  concerned  in  furthering  the  func- 
tions of  life  —  must  belong  to  mind  and  form  a  part 
of  psychology.  The  subdivision  of  mind  which  I 
prefer  is  that  into  sense  and  intellect,  using  the 
word  sense  as  synonymous  with  feeling  in  general. 
But  as  most  forms  of  intellection  may  be  regarded 
as  modes  of  thinking,  it  is  sometimes  clearer  to  draw 
the  antithesis  between  feeling  and  thought.  But  as 
adjective  forms  are  convenient  and  as  all  feelings 
are   in    the   philosophical   sense   affections,   it   often 


96  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  part  i 

strengthens  the  conception  to  refer  to  the  feelings 
in  this  general  sense  as  constituting  the  affective  side 
of  mind,  or  the  affective  faculties.  Similarly,  as  all 
intellectual  processes  grow  out  of  the  primary  pro- 
cess of  perception,  it  is  sometimes  convenient  to 
designate  these  as  constituting  the  perceptive  side  of 
mind.  From  still  another  point  of  view  the  science 
of  psychology  may  be  divided  into  subjective  and 
objective.  Affective  phenomena  relate  exclusively 
to  the  subject  and  yield  no  notion  of  the  object, 
while  perceptive  phenomena  have  for  their  primary 
function  to  acquaint  the  subject  with  the  qualities 
of  the  object.  We  thus  have  the  two  great  fields 
of  subjective  and  objective  psychology. 

But  it  matters  not  what  terms  we  use,  the  dis- 
tinction is  always  the  same  and  should  be  rigidly 
adhered  to.  It  is  much  confused  in  modern  dis- 
cussions, and  the  word  mind,  which  formerly  always 
meant  the  operations  of  the  intellect  only,  has  come 
in  recent  times  to  be  used  in  the  sense  of  feel- 
ing only,  the  thinking  process  itself  being  described 
as  a  form  of  feeling.  There  is  a  sense  in  which 
this  cannot  be  denied,  for  without  feeling  there 
could  be  no  consciousness;  still  the  subjective 
process,  feeling,  can  be  distinguished  from  the 
objective  product,  knowledge,  and  the  two  fields 
kept  apart. 

Mind  is  of  biological  origin.  Feeling  was  first 
developed  under  the  operation  of  the  law  of  survival 
for  the  protection  of  plastic  organisms,  taking  the 


CHAP.  V  SOCIOLOGY  AND  PSYCHOLOGY  97 

positive  form  of  pleasure  to  induce  them  to  seek 
nourishment  and  reproduce  their  kind,  and  the  nega- 
tive form  of  pain  to  induce  them  to  escape  enemies 
and  other  dangers.  These  were  sufficient  for  all  the 
lower  forms  of  life  and  constitute  almost  the  only 
form  of  psychic  manifestation  below  the  human  stage. 
With  man,  however,  and,  in  an  embryonic  form  in 
some  of  the  higher  animals,  a  new  element  was 
introduced,  first  exclusively  as  an  aid  to  the  will, 
which  is  the  active  expression  of  the  affective  powers. 
This  was  the  perceptive  element,  by  means  of  which 
the  ends  of  being  were  rendered  more  secure,  and 
the  creatures  in  which  it  was  most  highly  developed 
became  the  winners  in  the  race.  Man  proved  to  be 
the  specially  favored  of  all  the  earth's  inhabitants  in 
this  most  important  respect,  and  was  thus  enabled  to 
become  not  only  master  of  all  other  life,  but  of  the 
physical  forces  of  nature  as  well. 

Although,  as  was  shown  in  the  last  chapter,  the 
intellect,  as  the  result  of  superior  brain  development, 
is  the  one  leading  attribute  that  distinguishes  the 
human  race  from  all  other  races  and  constitutes  man, 
still,  it  was  not  developed  at  the  expense  of,  or  as  a 
substitute  for,  his  affective  faculties,  but  'pari  passu 
with  them  and  as  an  aid  to  them.  It  is  therefore 
clear  that  it  is  these  affective  attributes  that  hold 
the  first  place  and  constitute  that  to  which  all  others 
are  subservient.  Intellect  is  not  an  end  in  itself. 
It  is  only  a  means  to  the  end.  Tlie  end  itself  is  the 
good.     If  life  be  considered  desirable,  the  preserva- 


98  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  part  i 

tion  and  continuation  of  life  must  be  looked  upon  as 
a  good.  But  closer  analysis  shows  that  even  this 
may,  from  a  certain  point  of  view,  be  regarded  as  a 
means.  The  good  itself  is  distinct  from  it.  We  are 
thus  met  by  the  necessity  of  making  a  broad  distinc- 
tion which  is  of  the  utmost  importance  to  sociology. 
The  biological  must  be  clearly  marked  off  from  the 
psychological  standpoint.  The  former  is  that  of 
function,  the  latter  that  of  feeling.  It  is  convenient 
and  almost  necessary,  in  order  to  gain  a  correct  con- 
ception of  these  relations,  to  personify  Nature,  as  it 
were,  and  bring  her  into  strong  contrast  with  the 
sentient  creature.  Thus  viewed,  each  may  be  con- 
ceived to  have  its  own  special  end.  The  end  of 
Nature  is  function,  i.e.,  life.  It  is  biological.  The 
end  of  the  creature  is  feeling,  i.e.,  it  is  psychic. 
From  the  standpoint  of  Nature,  feeling  is  a  means 
to  function.  From  the  standpoint  of  the  organism, 
function  is  a  means  to  feeling.  Pleasure  and  pain 
came  into  existence  in  order  that  a  certain  class 
of  beings  might  live,  but  those  beings,  having 
been  given  existence,  now  live  in  order  to  enjoy. 
This  enjoyment  of  life,  which  we  may  say  was  not 
contemplated  by  Nature,  or  to  use  Weismann's 
expression,  was  "unintended,"  and  which  forms  no 
necessary  part  of  the  general  scheme  of  Nature, 
becomes,  once  it  has  been  introduced,  the  sole  end 
of  the  beings  capable  of  it.  As  Nature  cares  nothing 
for  their  enjoyments  and  is  indifferent  to  their  suffer- 
ings, so  they  in  turn  care  nothing  for  her  great  scheme 


CHAP.  V  SOCIOLOGY  AND  PSYCHOLOGY  99 

of  evolution,  and  would  not  make  the  smallest  per- 
sonal sacrifice  to  further  it.  Yet,  from  the  very 
manner  in  which  this  new  element  came  into  the 
world,  this  single  pursuit  of  their  own  good  proves 
to  be  that  which  could  alone  secure  the  success  of 
Nature's  scheme.  Pleasure  means  life  and  pain 
means  death.  This  new  element  is  nothing  more 
nor  less  than  the  moral  element.  No  such  element 
exists  in  Nature  outside  of  this  class  of  beings. 
Nature  is  wholly  unmoral.  The  moral  world  is  a 
comparatively  restricted  one.  It  is  confined  exclu- 
sively to  animal  life,  including,  of  course,  human  life, 
Yet  it  is  not  to  be  despised.  To  Nature  at  large  it 
is  nothing.  To  the  sentient  world  it  is  everything. 
Man  belongs  to  that  world  and  it  is  everything  to 
him.  Only  it  is  needful  that  he  should  recognize 
that  it  is  no  part  of  the  scheme  of  Nature  except 
accidentally,  or  at  most  incidentally.  The  realiza- 
tion of  this  truth  is  calculated  to  teach  him  that 
modesty  which  is  essential  even  to  his  own  welfare. 
The  prevalent  view  that  ethics  is  a  vast  system  coex- 
tensive with  the  universe  belongs  to  that  class  of 
vainglorious  conceptions  that  make  up  the  anthropo- 
centric  philosophy  of  the  pre-scientific  period  and  of 
the  uninformed  generally,  and  tends,  like  all  crude 
and  vaunting  ideas,  to  render  men  arrogant  and 
intolerant.  But  having  said  thus  much,  it  is  neces- 
sary to  recognize  also  that  sociology  has  no  other 
course  left  than  to  proceed  upon  the  assumption  that 
tlie  good  is  everything. 


lOO  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  part  I 

Now  the  good,  at  bottom,  is  nothing  else  than 
agreeable  sensation  as  it  was  developed  for  the 
preservation  of  life.  Those  who  are  in  the  habit  of 
regarding  this  as  trifling  or  unworthy  do  not  con- 
sider, usually  do  not  know,  that  this  was  the  only 
way  by  which  the  scheme  of  Nature  could  be  carried 
out.  Without  it,  not  only  could  man  never  have 
come  into  existence,  but  there  could  have  been  noth- 
ing in  existence  higher  than  the  vegetable.  This 
agreeable  sensation,  which  early  takes  the  form  of 
pleasure,  possesses  every  conceivable  degree,  not 
merely  of  intensity  or  pitch,  but  also  of  quality  or 
timbre.  It  is  all  in  itself  good.  It  is  the  good. 
All  pleasure  is  not  only  good  but  right,  if  it  results 
in  no  harm.  But  to  result  in  harm  is  simply  to 
deprive  of  pleasure,  so  that  the  proposition  is  correct 
in  its  simple  form  if  we  give  the  right  meaning  to 
words.  But  in  consequence  of  these  degrees  in  the 
intensity  and  quality  of  pleasures,  everything  be- 
comes relative,  and  morality  is  reduced  to  choosing 
among  pleasures  those  which  are  best.  Here,  again, 
the  primary  principle  applies.  Best  is  the  superla- 
tive of  good^  and  the  good  is  pleasure.  So  the  best 
is  the  greatest  pleasure.  The  ethical  end  is  to  secure 
the  maximum  absolute  enjoyment.  No  one  would 
question  these  statements  if  they  were  applied  to 
animals.  They  are  equally  true  of  men,  and  phil- 
osophers simply  deceive  themselves  when  they  deny 
them  and  seek  to  bring  in  some  foreign  element. 
What  they  do  is  wrongly  to  limit  the  term  pleasure 


CHAP.  V  SOCIOLOGY  AND  PSYCHOLOGY  lOI 

to  the  coarser,  sensual  forms  and  deny  its  applica- 
bility to  the  higher,  spiritual  forms.  But  the  two 
pass  insensibly  into  each  other  and  no  line  can  be 
drawn  that  will  completely  separate  them.  They 
are  all  good  in  themselves  and  some  only  seem  bad 
relatively  to  others.  The  least  refined  pleasures  are, 
in  fact,  the  most  essential.  They  are  most  closely 
connected  with  function.  They  were  the  first  devel- 
oped and  served,  as  they  will  always  serve,  their 
purpose  in  carrying  out  the  scheme  of  Nature  —  the 
preservation,  increase,  and  continuation  of  life.  If 
possible,  therefore,  they  have  an  even  higher  sanc- 
tion than  the  more  refined  pleasures,  which  do  not 
serve  to  the  same  extent,  if  at  all,  the  disinterested 
ends  of  Nature,  and  exist  far  more  for  their  own 
sake,  egoistically.  This  shows  clearly  that  the 
problem  of  ethics  is  to  secure  the  greatest  pleasure. 
It  is  discovered  that  the  higher,  spiritual  pleasures 
are  the  most  enduring.  Although  they  may  lack 
something  of  the  intensity  of  the  other  class  they 
much  more  than  counterbalance  this  loss  by  their 
superior  permanence.  They  thus  possess  greater 
volume.  It  is  clear  that  in  securing  them  the  gain 
is  in  the  direction  of  more  'pleasure.  This  is  really 
the  only  meaning  that  the  word  gain  can  have. 
The  relative  worthiness  of  pleasures  is,  therefore, 
ultimately  based  on  the  quantity  of  pleasure  yielded. 
It  is  this  and  nothing  else  that  is  meant  when  virtue 
is  enjoined  and  vice  condemned. 

In  any  attempt  to  draw  up  a  scale  of  pleasures  in 


I02  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  part  I 

their  ascending  order  the  localized  sexual  feeling 
would  probably  be  put  at  the  bottom  as  the  most 
purely  physical  and  least  spiritual,  but  it  should  be 
observed  that  it  is  the  most  essential  of  all,  having 
to  do  with  the  preservation  not  merely  of  the  indi- 
vidual but  of  the  race.  Next  in  order  would  come 
the  pleasure  yielded  by  the  organs  of  incretion  and 
nutrition  (tongue,  palate,  stomach,  etc.).  These  are 
also  second  in  importance  and  serve  to  preserve  the 
life  of  the  individual.  The  third  place  would  be 
taken  by  the  pleasures  of  hearing  and  sight  upon 
which  the  fine  arts  rest.  Although  they  probably 
yield  to  enlightened  races  more  satisfaction  than  the 
ones  already  named,  no  one  will  claim  that  they 
possess  any  such  importance  from  the  broader  stand- 
point of  function  and  life.  The  pleasures  of  the 
emotions  might  be  given  the  fourth  place.  They 
are  both  refined  and  enduring,  and  make  up  the 
greater  part  of  all  that  the  majority  of  mankind  value 
in  the  world.  Yet,  except  in  so  far  as  they  are  so 
intimately  linked  with  the  sexual  instinct  as  to  be 
virtually  a  part  of  it,  as  maternal  and  conjugal  affec- 
tion, they  seem  to  exist  chiefly  for  their  own  sake, 
neither  preserving,  perpetuating,  nor  enhancing  life. 
This  class  of  pleasures  passes  gradually  up,  as  the 
result  of  increasing  sympathy,  from  those  of  mere 
friendship  and  mutual  attachment,  through  love  of 
the  helpless,  to  the  purest  altruism,  which  may  be 
set  down  as  a  fifth  class  of  pleasures. 
"^    The  pleasure  of  "doing  good"  is  among  the  most 


CHAP.  V  SOCIOLOGY  AND  PSYCHOLOGY  103 

delicious  of  which  the  human  faculties  are  capable, 
and  becomes  the  permanent  stimulus  to  thousands  of 
worthy  lives.  It  is  usually  looked  upon  as  the  high- 
est of  all  motives,  and  by  some  as  the  ultimate  goal 
toward  which  all  action  should  aspire.  It  should 
first  be  observed  that  the  very  act  of  doing  good 
presupposes  evil,  t.e.,  pain.  Doing  good  is  neces- 
sarily either  increasing  pleasure  or  diminishing  pain. 
Now,  if  all  devoted  themselves  to  doing  good,  it  is 
maintained  that  the  sufferings  of  the  world  would 
be  chiefly  abolished.  Admitting  that  there  are  some 
evils  that  no  human  efforts  could  remove,  and  sup- 
posing that  by  united  altruism  all  removable  evils 
were  done  away,  there  would  be  nothing  left  for 
altruists  to  do.  By  their  own  acts  they  would  have 
deprived  themselves  of  a  calling.  They  must  be  mis- 
erable, since  the  only  enjoyment  they  deemed  worthy 
of  experiencing  would  be  no  longer  possible,  and  this 
suffering  from  ennui  would  be  among  those  which 
lie  beyond  human  power  to  alleviate.  An  altruistic 
act  would  then  alone  consist  in  inflicting  pain  on 
one's  self  for  the  sole  purpose  of  affording  others  an 
opportunity  to  derive  pleasure  from  the  act  of  reliev- 
ing it.  I  do  not  put  the  matter  in  this  light  for  the 
purpose  of  discouraging  altruism,  but  simply  to  show 
how  short-sighted  most  ethical  reasoning  is.  In  the 
second  place  it  is  to  be  noted  that,  however  pure  and 
exalted  this  class  of  pleasure  may  be,  it  is  one  that 
is  somewhat  difficult  to  obtain.  Life  for  the  average 
person  is  more  or  less  of  a  humdrum  routine,  and 


104  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  part  I 

opportunities  for  noble  acts  are  rare.  Any  attempt 
to  go  beyond  the  normal  course  of  uniform  polite- 
ness, kindness,  uprightness,  and  honesty,  becomes 
dramatic  or  quixotic,  and  is  readily  detected  as  a 
sham.  Only  in  hospital  and  asylum  work  is  there 
room  to  devote  a  life  to  ministration,  and  even  there 
it  is  found  that  scientific  nursing  is  better  than  the 
mere  display  of  sympathy  and  zeal. 

For  my  own  part  I  never  have  regarded  the  altru- 
istic as  the  highest  and  purest  of  human  motives.  I 
place  above  them  in  this  scale  the  pleasures  of  the 
intellect,  and  would  make  this  the  sixth  and  last 
class.  The  brain  is  not  merely  the  organ  of  know- 
ing. It  is  an  emotional  center  also,  and  the  feelings 
to  which  its  exercise  give  rise  are  the  most  important 
from  the  standpoint  of  feeling  of  all  that  we  have 
considered.  On  the  other  hand,  they  are  the  farthest 
removed  from  the  domain  of  function.  To  the  race 
they  contribute  nothing.  Nature  never  intended 
that  they  should  exist,  for  they  are  of  no  use  to  her. 
Their  service  is  a  personal  one  to  the  possessor  of 
this  faculty,  and  not  to  the  world.  I  shall  soon 
show  their  bearing  upon  our  science  of  sociology. 
For  the  present  I  am  considering  them  from  the 
standpoint  not  only  of  psychology  but  of  subjective 
psychology,  as  I  have  defined  it.  The  pleasures  of 
the  intellect,  if  they  do  not  do  good  in  the  altruistic 
sense,  at  least  do  no  harm.  They  are  the  farthest 
removed  from  the  sensual  or  physical  of  all  pleasures. 
They  are  rarely  intense,  but  they  are  the  most  last- 


CHAP.  V  SOCIOLOGY  AND  PSYCHOLOGY  105 

ing  of  all  pleasures.  They  are  purely  spiritual,  and 
least  capable  of  abuse.  They  possess  a  certain  dig- 
nity and  nobility  beyond  all  others.  Finally,  they 
are  not  difficult  to  secure,  and  nearly  or  quite  every 
l^erson  may  partake  freely  of  them  during  the  greater 
part  of  life.  They  are  numerous,  but  the  principal 
ones  belong  to  two  groups.  These  groups  may  be 
respectively  denominated  the  acquisitive  and  the 
constructive^  or  the  receptive  and  the  reproductive. 
"Reason,"  says  Schopenhauer,  "is  female  in  its 
nature;  it  can  only  bring  forth  after  it  has  con- 
ceived." ^  The  earlier  portion  of  every  one's  life  is 
devoted  to  acquiring  —  I  will  not  say  knowledge, 
would  that  it  were !  It  is  devoted  to  laying  in  the 
store  from  which  it  is  to  draw  during  the  later  parts. 
In  a  properly  organized  mind  and  under  a  just  system 
of  education  this  acquirement  is  chiefly  knowledge, 
either  of  things  or  of  actions.  It  is  either  learning 
what  or  learning  how.  Now,  as  each  individual 
must  begin  at  the  beginning  and  learn  everything 
for  himself,  the  education  of  each  new  generation 
would  be  a  matter  for  utter  despair  if  there  were  no 
extenuating  circumstances.  The  human  mind  would 
no  more  nourish  itself  from  considerations  of  cold 
calculation  than  would  the  body  of  either  man  or 
animals  without  an  immediate  personal  motive  con- 
stantly impelling  it  in  that  direction.     Not  only  the 

'  Die  Vernunft  ist  weiblicher  Natur  :  sie  kann  nur  geben,  nach- 
dem  sie  empfangen  hat.  Schopenhauer.  Die  Welt  als  WilU  und 
Vorstellung,  Vol.  II.,  Leipzig,  1859,  p.  59. 


I06  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  part  I 

past  intellectual  success  but  the  future  hope  of  man- 
kind lie  in  the  fact  that  the  mind  is  endowed  with 
an  appetite.  The  satisfaction  of  this  mental  appe- 
tite is,  with  the  single  exception  next  to  be  noted, 
the  highest,  most  enduring,  and  most  profitable  of 
all  human  enjoyments.  It  is  a  solace  which  all  may- 
find,  a  luxury  which  never  surfeits  or  reacts  unfavor- 
ably, a  passion  whose  unlimited  indulgence  is  always 
safe.  For  all  these  reasons  the  volume  of  enjoyment 
thus  derived  is  greater  than  that  derived  from  any 
of  the  sources  hitherto  considered. 

But  there  is  one  still  higher  pleasure,  the  most 
exalted  of  all.  This  is  the  discovery  of  truth.  Sweet 
as  may  be  this  receptive  process, —  the  act  of  intel- 
lectual conception, —  the  productive  or  reproductive 
process  —  the  act  of  intellectual  parturition  —  is  yet 
sweeter.  The  raw  materials  that  have  been  received 
into  the  mind  through  all  the  senses,  the  results 
of  experience  and  education,  undergo  a  process  of 
gestation,  as  it  were,  and  are  developed  into  new 
shapes.  To  drop  the  figure,  the  innumerable  items 
of  acquired  knowledge  are  brought  into  relations 
with  one  another,  compared,  combined,  and  organ- 
ized into  conceptions  of  varying  degrees  of  gener- 
ality. Truth  is  the  recognition  of  identity  under 
varying  aspects.  The  mind  devotes  itself  to  the 
discovery  of  truth  amidst  all  the  manifold  elements 
of  its  stored  materials.  This  is  the  highest  form  of 
thinking.  The  identities  are  usually  between  the 
higher  psychic  units.     The  primary  psychic  unit  is 


CHAP.  V  SO CIOL OGY  AND  PS YCHOL OGY  I O/ 

simple  perception,  but  it  is  not  until  a  multitude  of 
registered  perceptions  have  been  organized  into  units 
of  higher  degrees  that  the  process  of  identification 
begins.  The  higher  the  degree  of  the  units  the 
greater  their  resemblance  to  one  another,  and  very- 
complex  psychic  units  are  perceived  to  be  all  closely 
related.  All  knowing  is  a  perception  of  relations, 
and  this  highest  form  of  knowing  is  the  perception 
of  the  relations  that  subsist  among  the  largest  psychic 
aggregates.  This  may  take  the  form  of  generaliza- 
tion and  be  a  classification  of  such  aggregates.  The 
truth  then  discovered  is  the  position  of  the  various 
conceptions  in  the  hierarchy.  But  these  conceptions 
are  not  merely  subjective.  They  are  built  of  mate- 
rials from  the  outside  world  and  they  represent  con- 
ditions existing  in  that  world.  Only  in  so  far  as 
they  do  this  are  they  truths.  But  not  to  dwell  on 
the  psychology  of  the  subject,  what  here  concerns  us 
is  the  fact  that  every  such  act  of  the  mind  is  attended 
with  an  intense  satisfaction.  It  seems  almost  a 
mockery  to  call  it  a  pleasure,  so  far  above  all  those 
experiences  commonly  called  pleasures  does  it  rise, 
but  it  certainly  belongs  to  the  same  great  psychic 
group  as  all  other  pleasures,  and  our  language  lacks 
tlie  appro[)riate  term  to  characterize  it. 

The  power  to  discover  trutli  exists  in  all  minds, 
but  in  most,  it  must  be  confessed,  it  is  very  feeble, 
while  comparatively  few  ever  attempt  to  exercise  it. 
This  is,  therefore,  in  the  present  condition  of  our 
race,  a  limited  source  of  gratification,  but  it  is  ca- 


I08  SOCIAL   PHILOSOPHY  part  i 

pable  of  indefinite  extension,  and  makes  up  in  its 
sterling  worth  what  it  lacks  in  range  and  univer- 
sality. Without  it  there  would  be  no  science,  for 
science  rests  upon  the  discovery  of  truth  and  not 
merely  upon  the  accumulation  of  facts.  The  real 
moral  progress  of  the  world  is  due  to  science,  and 
therefore  this  motive  may  be  regarded  as  the  most 
altruistic  of  all. 

It  thus  appears  that,  as  a  rule,  those  desires  whose 
satisfaction  is  most  important  from  the  standpoint 
of  nature  or  function  are  least  important  from  the 
standpoint  of  the  individual  or  feeling.  That  is  to 
say,  the  more  essential  they  are  to  life  the  less 
pleasure  they  yield,  and  vice  versa.  The  first  of 
these  qualities  may  be  called  necessity^  the  second 
utility^  and,  thus  defined,  the  necessity  of  a  desire 
stands  in  an  inverse  ratio  to  its  utility. 

The  several  classes  of  human  pleasures,  therefore, 
as  treated  above,  arranged  in  the  descending  order 
of  their  necessity  and  ascending  order  of  their  util- 
ity, will  stand  as  follows :  1.  Reproductive.  2.  Nu- 
tritive. 3.  ^Esthetic.  4.  Emotional.  5.  Moral. 
6.  Intellectual. 

I  have  dwelt  thus  at  length  upon  the  scale  of 
pleasures  because,  as  we  shall  now  perceive,  they 
constitute  the  basis  of  all  human  activity.  It  is 
upon  this  affective  part  of  mind  that  sociology  rests, 
and  not  upon  its  intellectual  part.  Sociology  is  a 
science  and  as  such  it  deals  with  a  field  of  phe- 
nomena controlled  by  certain  forces.      The  social 


CHAP.  V  SOCIOLOGY  AND  PSYCHOLOGY  IO9 

forces  are  human  motives,  and  all  motives,  in  the 
correct  sense  of  the  term,  have  feeling  as  their  end. 
To  attain  pleasure  or  avoid  pain  is  the  only  incentive 
to  action.  All  motives  are  desires,  and  the  term 
which  expresses  the  aggregate  of  desires  is  will. 
Desire,  as  I  have  formerly  shown,  ^  is  a  true  natural 
force.  The  motor  of  the  social  world  is  will.  It  is 
what  I  have  called  the  dynamic  agent  in  society. 
The  full  import  of  this  truth  will  be  brought  out  in 
the  seventh  chapter.  I  have  merely  worked  up  to  it 
here  to  show  the  direct  manner  in  which  sociology 
bears  upon  psychology. 

Thus  far  we  have  confined  ourselves  exclusively 
to  the  affective  side  of  the  mind,  or  subjective 
psychology.  It  is  in  this  region  that  the  motive 
power  of  social  operations  has  been  found  to  reside. 
However  trivial  the  affections  may  seem  to  the  meta- 
physician, they  are  of  primary  importance  to  the 
sociologist.  But  while  they  constitute  the  source 
of  power  in  social  events,  this  is  their  entire  func- 
tion. They  constitute  the  dynamic  agent  and  noth- 
ing else.  To  render  this  power  effective  a  directive 
agent  is  required.  This  is  furnished  by  the  intellect. 
It  is  the  guide  of  the  feelings.  It  is  useless  to 
speculate  as  to  the  relative  value  of  these  two 
agencies.  Both  are  absolutely  essential  to  so  com- 
plicated a  mechanism  as  society.  The  familiar 
comparison  of  society  to  an  ocean  steamer  remains 

^  Dynamic  Sociology,  Vol.  II.,  pp.  95  ff.  Psychic  Factors  of 
Civilization,  pp.  55,  94. 


no  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  parti 

the  clearest  that  has  been  proposed.  The  feelings 
embodied  in  will  are  represented  by  the  engines, 
while  the  intellect  is  typified  in  the  helm.  The 
former  in  both  cases  is  clearly  the  primary  constitu- 
ent, and  yet  without  the  latter  it  would  fail  of  its 
purpose. 

It  is,  however,  worthy  of  remark,  that  what  has 
been  said  applies  only  to  man  and  society.  Lower 
in  the  scale  of  life  we  practically  have  the  dynamic 
without  the  directive  agent.  Unreasoning  beings 
are  devoid  of  a  guide.  They  follow  their  feelings 
only.  They  are  like  a  ship  without  a  rudder.  The 
substitutes  are,  first,  a  close  adaptation  to  their 
environment,  so  that  there  are,  so  to  speak,  no  reefs, 
shoals,  or  rocks,  upon  which  they  can  be  wrecked, 
all  not  thus  adapted  having  already  been  wrecked; 
and,  second  (which  is  only  a  particular  case  of  the 
first),  instincts,  that  have  been  developed  through 
selective  elimination,  and  which  limit  the  feelings 
and  will  to  particular  grooves  in  which  they  may 
safely  act.  It  is  upon  this  that  depends  all  the 
social  advance  that  animals  have  made,  and  the 
study  of  animal  sociology  would  differ  from  that  of 
human  in  dealing  with  instincts  and  adaptations 
instead  of  rational  acts.  So  that  while  all  asso- 
ciative phenomena  rest  on  subjective  psychology, 
distinctively  human  association  depends  upon  and 
presupposes  a  fully  developed  rational  faculty. 

I  have  called  this  the  perceptive,  as  distinguished 
from  the  affective  side  of  mind.     This  term,  though 


CHAP.  V  SOCIOLOGY  AND  PSYCHOLOGY  III 

inadequate  to  express  the  highest  processes  of  the 
intellect,  is  well  adapted  to  describe  the  incipient 
stages  of  rational  life.  Since  the  new  biology  has 
taught  us  to  account  for  every  organ  and  attribute 
by  the  law  of  advantage,  the  intellect  of  man  has 
presented  the  most  marked  obstacle  to  this  mode  of 
interpreting  nature.  It  is  admitted  even  by  Weis- 
mann  and  Wallace,  the  leading  apostles  of  the  neo- 
Darwinian  school,  that  the  highest  intellectual 
faculties  cannot  be  thus  accounted  for.  So  far  as  I 
am  aware,  I  am  the  only  one  who  has  attempted  to 
show  a  way  out  of  this  difficulty.  I  cannot  go  far 
into  the  question  in  this  work,  and  must  be  content 
for  the  most  part  to  refer  to  the  place  ^  where  I  have 
developed  the  thought.  I  will  merely  say  that  the 
intellect  must  be  considered  as  the  result  of  ages  of 
slow  development,  that  it  began  far  back  in  the 
animal  series,  and  that  its  sole  purpose  originally 
was  to  assist  the  will  in  attaining  the  objects  of 
desire.  Its  primary  stage  I  call  intuition,  passing 
into  intuitive  reason  and  judgment,  The  first  form 
of  knowing  was  a  perception  of  relations,  and  this 
fully  justifies  the  expression  perceptive  faculties. 
Their  whole  purpose  was  the  creature's  advantage, 
and  they  formed  as  legitimate  a  subject  for  natural 
selection  to  work  upon  as  any  other.  The  particular 
brain  structures  requisite  to  serve  as  organs  of  direc- 
tion were  immediately  affected  by  the  selective  pro- 
cess, and  developed  normally  under  its  influence. 
1  Psychic  Factors  of  Civilization,  Part  II. 


112  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  parti 

And  thus  was  built  up,  cell  upon  cell,  the  enlarged 
brain  of  the  highest  animals,  and  especially  of  man, 
who  seems  to  have  been  the  first  to  reach  the  point 
where  mental  forces  completely  gained  the  mastery 
over  physical  ones,  so  that  the  only  advantageous 
qualities  worth  mentioning  were  those  that  helped 
him  to  foresee,  circumvent,  and  outwit  the  rest  of 
creation.  The  evolving  intellect  throughout  all  this 
long  pre-social  and  pre-moral  period  was  exclusively 
devoted  to  the  egoistic  interests  of  individuals, 
acquiring  sagacity,  shrewdness,  and  tact,  and  exer- 
cising cunning,  craft,  strategy,  and  diplomacy  in 
attaining  its  ends. 

But  this  cunning  was  not  wholly  applied  to  ani- 
mate things.  A  large  stream  of  it  took  the  direction 
of  circumventing  and  taming  the  physical  forces  of 
nature.  Cunning,  thus  applied,  was  called  ingenuity 
and  resulted  in  invention.  This  proved  the  most 
advantageous  use  to  which  the  new  agency  could  be 
put,  and  led  to  the  development  of  the  arts.  Man 
may  have  been  gregarious  before  there  were  any  arts, 
but  he  can  scarcely  be  said  to  have  been  social. 
Society,  in  its  modern  acceptation,  must  have  origi- 
nated simultaneously  with  the  earliest  form  of  art. 
We  can  scarcely  conceive  of  art  without  society  or 
society  without  art.  The  development  of  society 
has  been  the  development  of  art,  and  human  civili- 
zation has  advanced  through  all  the  stages  of  culture 
into  which  ethnologists  subdivide  it  as  the  result  of 
successive  advances  in  the  perfection  of  the  arts. 


CHAP.  V  SOCIOL OGY  AND  PS  YCHOL OGY  1 1 3 

We  are  not  now  dealing  with  art  but  with  mind, 
and  our  point  of  view  makes  it  clear  that  the  intel- 
lect in  its  primary  characteristics  was  thoroughly 
practical  in  the  sense  that  those  races  in  which  it 
was  best  developed  were  the  fittest  to  survive,  and 
this  is  all  that  the  biologic  law  requires  to  account 
for  the  increase  of  an  organ  or  faculty.  It  is  also 
apparent  that  it  has  never  lost  this  quality,  and  that 
the  law  was  applicable  throughout  the  human  period, 
that  it  has  operated  during  the  historic  period  as 
fully  as  in  the  prehistoric,  and  that,  in  a  much  modi- 
fied form,  it  may  be  said  to  be  still  in  operation 
even  in  the  most  advanced  races.  The  intellect  is 
still  an  advantageous  attribute  in  the  biologic  sense, 
and  the  difficulty  before  referred  to  is  reduced  to 
showing  the  relation  of  the  advantageous  to  the 
non-advantageous  faculties.  The  latter  have  been 
habitually  regarded  as  constituting  the  whole  of 
mind,  and  hence  it  became  impossible  to  account  for 
the  origin  of  mind  on  natural  principles.  It  is  only 
necessary  to  affiliate  the  speculative  powers  upon  the 
egoistic  ones.  This  I  have  also  attempted  to  do, 
and  I  believe  successfully,  on  the  neo-Lamarckian 
principle  of  the  transmission  of  characters  acquired 
by  individual  effort.  I  thus  account  for  both  the 
creative  and  the  speculative  genius  of  man,  and 
the  intellect  in  its  most  fully  equipped  form  no 
longer  presents  an  insoluble  problem.  These 
so-called  higher  faculties  are  simply  derivative, 
and  represent  a  surplus  that  has  accumulated  over 


114  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  parti 

and  above  what  was  demanded  for  the  essentials 
of  life. 

The  consideration  of  the  intellect  as  the  directive 
agent,  highly  essential  as  it  was,  constitutes  never- 
theless a  sort  of  digression  or  interruption  of  the 
main  principle  that  was  under  discussion.  In  resum- 
ing the  thread  I  will  put  some  of  the  results  previ- 
ously reached  into  a  somewhat  different  form.  It 
was  found  convenient  to  personify  Nature  and 
ascribe  to  her  an  end  or  object.  This  object  was 
generalized  under  the  term  Function.  The  object 
of  the  sentient  creature  was  at  the  same  time  shown 
to  be  Feeling.  Something  was  said  of  the  scheme 
of  Nature,  or  evolution,  in  the  organic  world.  This, 
on  closer  inspection,  proves  to  be  distinct  from  func- 
tion or  the  simple  preservation  and  continuation  of 
life.  The  latter  involves  growth  and  multiplica- 
tion, but  not  change.  Evolution,  on  the  contrary, 
depends  wholly  upon  change,  and  this  involves  a 
new  principle,  viz.,  activity  or  effort.  It  is  through 
individual  effort  that  the  organism  is  molded  to  the 
environment,  and  this  organic  modification  is  what 
constitutes  those  perfectionments  of  structure  that 
result  in  progressive  development.  We  may  there- 
fore personify  Evolution  also,  and  ascribe  to  it  an 
end  or  object.  It  is  in  the  interest  of  Evolution 
that  the  organism  put  forth  eiforts  to  attain  its  ends. 
The  purely  biological  formula  may  therefore  be 
stated  as  follows :  — 

The  object  of  Nature  is  Function. 


CHAP.  V  SO CIOL OGY  AND  PS  YCHOL OGY  1 1 5 

The  object  of  the  Organism  is  Feeling. 

The  object  of  Evolution  is  Effort. 

Rising  to  the  human  plane,  we  have  simply  to 
adjust  our  terms  to  the  advanced  state  of  things. 
For  the  first  proposition  no  change  need  be  made  in 
the  formula.  In  the  second  proposition,  the  organ- 
ism becomes  Man,  and  the  sum  of  agreeable  feeling 
which  he  seeks  may  be  expressed  by  the  word  Happi- 
ness. In  the  third  element,  instead  of  the  world  at 
large,  the  beneficiary  of  human  exertion  is  Society. 
The  sociological  formula  will  therefore  stand  as 
follows :  — 

The  object  of  Nature  is  Function. 

The  object  of  Man  is  Happiness. 

The  object  of  Society  is  Effort. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  DATA  OF   SOCIOLOGY  ^ 

The  leading  distinction  between  modern  and 
ancient  philosophy  is  that  the  former  proceeds  from 
facts  while  the  latter  proceeded  from  assumptions. 
Every  science  is  at  the  same  time  a  philosophy. 
The  greater  part  of  all  that  is  valuable  in  any  science 
is  the  result  of  reasoning  from  facts.  What  would 
geology  be,  if  all  we  know  was  the  bare  facts  that 
the  rocks  present?  The  history  of  the  world  as 
geologists  now  understand  it  is  all  deduced  from  a 
state  of  things  that  is  now  fixed  or  stationary.  It 
is  true  that  similar  movements  are  now  taking  place, 
or  may  be  artificially  caused  to  take  place,  from 
which  past  movements  may  be  inferred,  but  they  are 
none  the  less  inferred.  The  geological  period  prac- 
tically closed  when  the  human  period  began,  so  that 
no  record  is  possible.  Yet  who  shall  say  that  we  do 
not  know  all  that  we  claim  to  know  about  the  earth's 
history?  The  evidence,  though  all  circumstantial, 
is  absolutely  irresistible  as  to  the  main  points  on 
which  all  geologists  agree.     Yet  it  is  all  inference. 

^  American  Journal  of  Sociology,  Vol.  I.,  No.  6,  Chicago,  May, 
1896,  pp.  738-752. 

Ii6 


CHAP.  VI  THE  DATA    OF  SOCIOLOGY  WJ 

In  other  words,  geology,  so  far  as  it  furnishes  us 
anything  of  value,  is  a  philosophy.  As  much  might 
be  said  of  physics  and  chemistry.  They  deal  with 
agencies  and  elements  wholly  beyond  the  range  of 
our  senses,  and  yet  most  of  the  material  progress  of 
the  world  has  resulted  from  men's  reasonings  about 
these  invisible  and  intangible  things.  The  chemical 
atoms,  the  luminiferous  ether,  electricity,  all  existed 
the  same  as  now  before  anything  was  known  of  them. 
It  is  clear,  therefore,  that  all  the  value  they  have  now 
is  due  to  the  actions  of  men,  and  this  has  chiefly 
consisted  in  observing  facts  and  drawing  conclusions 
from  these  facts.  So  that  chemistry  and  physics  con- 
stitute a  philosophy.  Thus  we  might  go  through  the 
whole  list.  The  more  complex  a  science  is,  the 
greater  the  number  of  facts  required  to  reason  from, 
and  the  more  difficult  the  task  of  drawing  correct 
conclusions  from  the  facts.  When  we  come  to 
sociology  the  number  of  details  is  so  immense  that 
it  is  no  wonder  many  declare  them  wholly  unmanage- 
able. I  confess  that  to  proceed  according  to  the 
method  chiefly  in  vogue  of  attacking  the  concrete 
phenomena  presented  by  local  and  restricted  areas 
and  accumulating  a  heterogeneous  mass  of  details, 
the  case  would  be  hopeless.  The  only  prospect  of 
success  lies  in  a  classification  of  the  materials.  This 
classification  of  sociological  data  amounts  in  the  end 
to  the  classification  of  all  the  subsciences  that  range 
themselves  under  the  general  science  of  sociology. 
In  calling  this  chapter  the  "Data  of  Sociology,"  I 


Il8  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  parti 

have  no  idea  of  attempting  an  enumeration  of  the 
data  of  sociology.  All  I  hope  to  do  is  to  indicate 
how  we  can  proceed  to  gather  and  investigate  the 
data.  To  attempt  to  give  details  would  be  like  tak- 
ing a  shovelful  of  earth  from  the  side  of  a  mountain. 
But  if  the  details  can  be  classified  into  first  large 
and  then  smaller,  and  then  still  smaller  groups,  some 
of  these  groups  may  finally  be  so  far  reduced  as  to 
offer  some  hope  that  they  may  be  investigated.  This 
work  being  devoted  wholly  to  the  philosophy  of 
sociology,  does  not  contemplate  the  consideration  of 
any  even  of  the  smaller  groups  of  sociological  data, 
and  the  only  justification  for  a  chapter  on  the  data 
of  sociology  is  just  this  effort,  so  to  organize  the 
different  classes  of  data  that  it  may  be  clearly  seen 
what  the  concrete  facts  are  from  which  the  laws  of 
associative  action  are  to  be  deduced. 

Let  us  begin  with  the  most  general  and  proceed 
analytically  toward  the  more  and  more  special.  In 
fact,  it  will  be  well  to  begin  entirely  outside  of 
sociology  proper  and  consider  first,  on  the  basis  of 
the  classification  attempted  in  the  first  chapter,  and 
in  the  light  of  all  that  has  been  said  in  the  four  sub- 
sequent chapters,  the  dependence  of  sociology  upon 
the  other  less  complex  and  more  general  sciences. 
These  simpler  sciences  may  themselves  be  regarded 
as  constituting  a  part  of  the  data  of  sociology.  Some 
knowledge  of  them  is  essential  to  any  adequate  com- 
prehension of  the  full  scope  and  meaning  of  sociology. 
It  may  have  a  discouraging  sound  to  say  that  in  order 


CHAP,  n  THE  DATA    OF  SOCIOLOGY  1 19 

to  be  properly  prepared  for  the  study  of  sociology 
one  must  first  be  acquainted  with  mathematics, 
astronomy,  physics,  chemistry,  biology,  and  psy- 
chology, but  when  it  is  clearly  understood  what  is 
meant  by  this  it  loses  much  of  its  formidableness. 
For  it  has  never  been  maintained  that  it  is  necessary 
to  become  a  specialist  in  all,  or  even  in  any  of  these 
sciences.  It  is  only  essential  to  have  a  firm  grasp 
of  the  leading  principles  of  all  of  them  and  of  their 
relations  one  to  another.  It  would  be  far  better  to 
devote  time  to  this  aspect  of  each  of  them  than  to 
mastering  the  details,  as  is  so  largely  done  in  the 
present  system  of  education.  A  certain  amount  of 
detail  is  of  course  necessary  to  furnish  a  full  concep- 
tion of  what  any  science  is  and  means,  but  it  need 
go  no  farther  than  this.  The  pedagogic  principle 
applies  to  any  science.  A  fair  acquaintance  with 
the  general  principles  of  all  the  simpler  sciences  is 
essential  to  a  full  understanding  of  the  one  it  is  pro- 
posed to  make  a  specialty  of.  The  astronomer  must 
understand  mathematics,  the  physicist  should  be 
familiar  with  the  laws  that  govern  the  solar  system, 
the  chemist  should  be  acquainted  with  the  general 
principles  of  physics,  the  biologist  should  have  a 
fair  command  of  chemical  phenomena,  and  esjiecially 
of  those  of  organic  chemistry,  and  the  psychologist 
cannot  dispense  with  a  thorough  foundation  in  the 
general  laws  of  life  and  in  the  facts  of  anatomical 
and  physiological  science.  So,  of  course,  the  sociolo- 
gist, before  he  can  fully  perceive  the  scope  and  sig- 


I20  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  PART  i 

nificance  of  his  science,  must  know  the  laws  of  mind 
which  directly  underlie  the  whole  social  fabric. 

It  is  also  always  a  great  gain  if  the  philosophical 
student  of  these  higher  sciences  can  have  the  advan- 
tage of  much  deeper  drafts  from  the  more  directly 
underlying  sources.  It  has  an  immensely  broaden- 
ing and  deepening  effect  upon  the  study  of  mind  or 
of  society,  to  pursue,  as  a  pastime  or  as  a  profession, 
some  special  branch  of  biology  —  botany,  entomol- 
ogy, ornithology,  or  general  zoology.  The  special 
study  of  physiology  and  anatomy,  particularly  their 
comparative  study,  is  also  exceedingly  helpful  to  the 
psychologist  or  the  sociologist.  In  fact,  long  and 
continuous  occupation  with  any  special  class  of 
natural  phenomena,  no  matter  how  restricted  that 
class  may  be,  yields  an  acquaintance  with  the  ways 
of  nature  that  is  wonderfully  educating  in  fields  far 
outside  of  that  narrow  circle  of  observation. 

This  apparently  iron-clad  law  of  the  study  of  the 
sciences,  which  seems  to  make  such  an  extraordinary 
tax  upon  the  sociologist,  is  therefore,  after  all,  little 
more  than  the  requirement  that  the  sociological  stu- 
dent shall  first  of  all  acquire  a  good  general  educa- 
tion. It  does  not  so  much  prescribe  the  quantity  of 
his  learning  as  the  direction  it  should  be  made  to 
take.  It  says  that  his  education  should  be  mainly 
scientific,  that  his  study  of  the  sciences  should  be  so 
ordered  as  to  give  him  a  clear  idea  of  their  natural 
relations  and  dependencies,  that  they  should  be  taken 
up  so  far  as  possible  in  the  order  of  their  decreasing 


CHAP.  VI  THE  DATA    OF  SOCIOLOGY  121 

generality  and  increasing  complexity,  and  that  they 
be  pursued  in  this  direction  at  least  to  include  the 
science  upon  which  the  chosen  specialty  directly 
rests.  In  the  case  of  sociology,  this  is  of  course  to 
cover  the  entire  range  of  the  sciences,  but  in  reality, 
this  is  nothing  more  than  any  well  organized  curric- 
ulum necessarily  involves,  and  even  the  mathemati- 
cian often  goes  through  the  entire  course. 

It  could  be  easily  shown  that  sociology  not  only 
depends  upon  psychology  and  biology  for  its  funda- 
mental principles,  but  that  the  phenomena  of  human 
association  would  be  seriously  affected  by  any  modi- 
fication in  the  more  general  laws  of  the  physical 
universe.  Consider  how  different  would  be  the 
affairs  of  men  if  the  angle  which  the  plane  of  the 
earth's  orbit  makes  with  the  ecliptic  were  consider- 
ably greater  or  less,  so  as  materially  to  affect  the 
seasons.  So  if  the  laws  of  motion,  of  gravitation, 
or  of  light  and  heat  vibration  were  other  than  they 
are,  the  social,  and  indeed  the  whole  organic  world, 
would  be  correspondingly  different.  Chemical  phe- 
nomena still  more  closely  influence  animals  and 
men,  and  it  goes  without  saying  that  vital  and 
psychic  phenomena  are  what  immediately  govern 
and  shape  those  of  the  human  and  social  world. 

The  primary  data  of  sociology,  then,  are  seen  to 
consist  of  this  general  preliminary  scientific  educa- 
tion, til  is  firm  grasp  of  the  broad  cosmical  principles 
that  underlie  and  govern  all  departments  of  natural 
phenomena.     But  it  is  just  this,  as  already  remarked, 


122  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY     .  part  i 

that  really  ought  to  be  afforded  to  every  member  of 
society  irrespective  of  the  field  of  labor  that  may  be 
chosen.  It  is  this  that  furnishes  the  most  valuable 
of  all  knowledge,  viz.,  knowledge  of  the  environ- 
ment. Paradoxical  though  it  may  sound,  the  know- 
ledge of  the  environment  is  the  most  practical  and 
useful  of  all  knowledge,  and  it  should  be  the  prin- 
cipal aim  of  all  sound  education  to  furnish  it.  But 
upon  this  I  need  not  now  enlarge.^ 

The  more  specific  data  of  sociology  consist  in  the 
facts  contributed  by  the  various  branches  or  sciences 
that  fall  directly  under  it,  in  the  relation  described 
in  the  first  chapter,  of  true  hierarchical  subordina- 
tion. This  is  in  harmony  with  the  general  method 
of  science  in  proceeding  from  the  concrete  to  the 
more  and  more  abstract.  The  sciences  just  enumer- 
ated are  abstract  in  the  sense  of  abstracting  the  con- 
crete facts  and  subordinate  laws  and  dealing  only 
with  the  highest  and  most  general  principles.  But 
such  general  principles  are  derived  from  the  less 
general  ones  of  which  they  are  the  generalizations. 
The  subordinate  principles  are,  in  turn,  only  the 
expression  of  orderly  phenomena,  and  such  phe- 
nomena are  only  the  modes  of  manifestation  of  the 
concrete  objects  occupying  each  field.  The  estab- 
lishment of  these  higher  sciences  is  simply  a  process 
of  generalization  from  the  facts  of  observation. 

In  the  case  of  sociology  we  have  first  and  foremost 
the  concrete  fact  man.  It  is  absolutely  necessary  to 
1  See  Dynamic  Sociology,  Vol.  II.,  pp.  492  fl. 


CHAP.  VI  THE  DATA    OF  SOCIOLOGY  1 23 

the  study  of  sociology  to  study  man  as  a  concrete 
fact.  Anthropology,  as  was  shown,  is  a  concrete 
science,  and  differs  generically  from  biology  and 
psychology,  which  deal  respectively  with  the  laws 
of  life  and  mind.  It  is  even  more  concrete  than 
either  botany  or  zoology,  in  treating  only  of  one 
species,  or  as  some  think,  genus,  of  living  things. 
So  far  as  man's  actions  are  concerned,  especially  his 
rational  actions,  they  fall  under  psychology,  and 
have  already  been  considered.  But  the  creature 
man,  considered  as  a  material  object  and  as  a  great 
group  of  innumerable  discrete  individuals  possessing 
many  qualities,  constitutes  the  primary  datum  of 
sociological  study.  First,  this  being  may  be  de- 
scribed (ethnography)  and  subdivided  into  different 
races  (ethnology),  and  then  special  attention  may  be 
given  to  his  physical  constitution  (somatology),  and 
also  to  what  he  produces  (technology).  Closely 
associated  with  this  last,  indeed  an  important  part 
of  it,  is  the  search  for  the  record  he  has  left,  consist- 
ing almost  exclusively  of  such  products  belonging  to 
past  periods  and  preserved  from  destruction.  This 
is  archaeology.  But  many  of  his  productions  are  not 
material,  and  consist  of  institutions  of  various  kind. 
Using  this  term  in  a  broad  sense,  institutions  embrace 
language,  customs,  governments,  religions,  indus- 
tries, and  ultimately  art  and  literature.  Tlie  study 
of  tliese  constitutes  real  history  as  distinguished 
from  the  mere  '"'' histoire-hataille.''^  Migrations  and 
the  vicissitudes  of  empire,  even  the  doings  of  the 


124  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  PART  I 

persons  who  happen  to  stand  in  the  front  of  these 
movements,  belong  here,  but  their  importance  is  apt 
to  be  exaggerated.  All  of  these  great  fields  of 
activity  are  capable  of  being  divided  and  subdivided, 
and  each  little  part  erected  into  a  science  to  be 
sj)ecially  studied.  The  study  of  language  forms  the 
science  of  philology.  Out  of  government  there 
unfolds  the  great  field  of  law  and  jurisprudence. 
The  study  of  industry  opens  out  in  one  direction 
into  the  field  of  political  economy,  and  in  another 
into  that  of  invention,  machinery,  and  all  the  arts 
of  civilization.  History  becomes  crystallized  in 
the  form  of  statistics,  which  is  the  algebra  of 
events. 

Now  all  this  vast  array  of  phenomena  manifested 
by  man  in  his  manifold  relations  with  the  material 
world  constitutes  the  data  of  sociology,  and  some- 
thing must  be  known  about  it  before  any  one  is 
capable  of  entering  into  the  consideration  of  those 
higher  laws  involved  in  human  association,  which, 
on  final  analysis,  are  simply  generalizations  from 
the  facts  of  lower  orders.  It  is  true  that  in  the 
course  of  acquiring  a  sound  general  education  every 
one  necessarily  learns  something  about  most  of  these 
things,  but  this  is  insufficient  to  constitute  an  ade- 
quate preparation  for  the  study  of  sociology.  This 
knowledge  needs  to  be  systematized  and  specialized, 
and  directed  to  the  definite  end.  The  student  needs 
to  know  just  what  he  is  pursuing  it  for.  There  is 
no  more  vicious  educational  practice,  and  scarcely 


CHAP.  VI  THE  DATA    OF  SOCIOLOGY  12$ 

any  more  common  one,  than  that  of  keeping  the  stu- 
dent in  the  dark  as  to  the  end  and  purpose  of  his 
work.  It  breeds  indifference,  discouragement,  and 
despair.  Therefore,  while  it  would  be  fruitless  to 
attempt  to  teach  the  principles  of  sociology  before 
the  student  was  put  in  possession  of  the  facts  from 
which  those  principles  are  derived,  it  is  of  the 
utmost  importance  to  inform  him  as  early  as  he  is 
likely  to  understand  what  it  means,  that  there  is  a 
great  general  science  of  society  toward  which  all  this 
is  leading,  and  constantly  to  keep  him  imbued  with 
the  idea  of  an  ultimate  utility  beyond  the  mere  satis- 
faction of  the  desire  to  know  facts. 

Looking  over  this  great  field  with  the  eye  of 
reason,  we  are  able  to  grasp  its  general  import ;  and 
first  of  all,  it  is  profitable  to  note  that  the  facts  that 
make  up  the  data  of  sociology  constitute  so  many 
varying  classes  of  phenomena.  That  is  to  say,  they 
are  the  manifestations  of  the  qualities  or  properties 
of  the  multitudinous  units  of  society  or  individual 
men.  These  differ  at  different  times  and  places  and 
constitute  a  complex  manifold  or  multiple.  There 
are  distinct  individualities  in  all  the  aggregates, 
from  the  ultimate  units  themselves  upward  through 
all  their  combinations  into  aggregates  of  higher 
orders.  The  study  of  such  a  varying  manifold, 
however  viewed,  is  essentially  in  the  nature  of  his- 
tory, and  therefore  the  approaches  to  sociological 
study  are  all  primarily  historical.  Moreover  this 
history   conforms    in   all   essential   respects   to  the 


126  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  PART  I 

character  of  the  phenomena  which  are  currently 
described  by  the  term  natural  history. 

Now  this  natural  history  of  society  readily  sub- 
divides into  two  groups,  according  to  whether  we 
study  man  himself  in  his  social  aspect,  or  his  achieve- 
ments. The  first  of  these  groups  is  anthropology  in 
its  proper  sense,  a  sense  considerably  more  restricted 
than  that  in  which  the  term  is  commonly  used.  It 
would,  for  example,  rigidly  applied,  exclude  tech- 
nology and  archaeology,  but  this  is  less  important  to 
our  present  purpose.  It  might  be  extended  to  em- 
brace the  ruder  forms  of  art,  but  it  has  chiefly  to  do 
with  race  characteristics  as  the  result  of  those  indi- 
vidualities that  have  been  mentioned,  including 
everything  that  serves  to  differentiate  the  groups  of 
human  beings  found  inhabiting  the  earth.  In  short, 
it  is  par  excellence  the  natural  history  of  man. 

The  second  subdivision  of  the  subject,  which 
relates  to  human  achievement,  as  distinguished  from 
man  himself,  considers  everything  which  can,  in  the 
broadest  acceptation  of  the  term,  be  classed  under 
the  head  of  human  institutions.  This  branch  deals 
essentially  with  what  ethnologists  denominate  cult- 
ure., and  constitutes  history  proper.  The  several 
stages  of  culture,  savagery,  barbarism,  civilization, 
enlightenment,  or  by  whatever  names  they  may  be 
designated,  are  so  many  steps  in  the  general  progress 
of  what  is  called  civilization  in  the  broader  and  more 
popular  sense.  The  study  of  this  is  also  a  branch 
of  natural  history,   since,   properly,   all  history  is 


CHAP.  VI  THE  DATA    OF  SOCIOLOGY  12/ 

natural  history,  but  here  we  are  one  remove  farther 
from  the  biological  base  from  which  the  natural  his- 
tory of  man,  as  I  have  defined  it,  directly  proceeds. 
Especially  does  the  psychological  element  now  dis- 
tinctly make  itself  felt,  and  the  qualities  we  have  to 
deal  with,  instead  of  being  mainly  physical,  become 
almost  exclusively  psychical.  The  animal  world, 
properly  speaking,  achieves  nothing.  It  may  work 
changes,  more  or  less  extensive,  in  the  face  of  nature, 
but  this  is  merely  the  incidental  result  of  activities 
which  do  not  have  any  such  effect  for  their  6bject. 
Nothing  in  the  nature  of  art  exists  below  the  human 
stage,  and  in  that  treatment  of  man  from  which  art 
is  abstracted,  human  achievement  is  also  necessarily 
omitted.  Man  is  considered  as  an  active  being, 
indeed,  as  constantly  doing  something,  but  not  as 
ever  making  anything.  In  the  history  of  culture^  as 
distinguished  from  the  natural  history  of  man,  he  is 
considered  as  primarily  a  producer  of  what  did  not 
exist  before.  While  we  are  unacquainted  with  any 
stage  of  human  history  in  which  these  two  states  do 
not  coexist,  it  is  a  highly  logical  mode  of  studying 
the  subject  to  treat  them  apart. 

The  causes  which  originally  led  to  Imman  associa- 
tion were  treated  in  the  fourth  chapter;  it  may  be 
added  here  that  no  race  or  condition  of  men  is  known 
in  which  association  does  not  exist.  We  may  there- 
fore assume  that  it  took  place  very  early,  and  prob- 
ably at  a  wholly  subhuman  stage.  It  was  doubtless 
one  of  the  most  powerful  mutual  factors  in  the  rapid 


128  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  PART  I 

brain  development  mentioned  in  that  chapter.  This 
brain  development  was  the  condition  of  the  psychic 
element  which  made  man  a  creator,  the  master  instead 
of  the  slave  of  his  environment,  and  which  above  all 
else  distinguishes  him  from  the  rest  of  nature.  The 
first  and  foremost,  then,  of  all  the  productions  of  this 
being  is  society  itself,  considered  as  an  artificial 
institution.  For,  however  early  it  may  have  come 
into  existence,  it  is  to  be  distinguished  from  all 
animal  societies  as  the  product  of  reason  instead  of  a 
product  of  instinct.  It  is  this  and  this  alone  which 
constitutes  it  an  institution.  The  study  of  this 
institution  from  this  point  of  view,  in  its  most 
embryonic  stages  and  among  the  least  developed 
races,  therefore  constitutes  one  of  the  most  impor- 
tant fields  of  research,  and  comes  clearly  under  the 
head  of  sociological  data. 

About  the  first  subject  to  which  associated  man 
turned  his  attention  must  have  been  the  proper  care 
of  the  young.  Natural  selection  alone  would  secure 
this,  since  those  who  neglected  it  would  be  elimi- 
nated. This  is  the  basis  of  the  institution  of  mar- 
riage, and  a  careful  survey  of  the  various  forms 
which  this  institution  has  assumed,  both  in  primi- 
tive and  advanced  races,  shows  that  it  is  in  all  cases 
more  or  less  successfully  adapted  to  this  end.  Even 
polyandry,  which  prevails  in  some  districts  of  Thibet, 
and  which  seems  so  repugnant  to  our  ideas,  has  been 
shown  to  be  the  best  form  of  marriage  for  a  people 
leading  the  kind  of  life  which  is  required  in  such  a 


CHAP.  VI  THE  DATA    OF  SOCIOLOGY  1 29 

country,  where  a  portion  of  the  men  are  obliged  to 
absent  themselves  from  home  for  a  large  part  of  the 
time.  It  is  not  enough  to  observe  and  record  the 
customs  of  a  people ;  sociology,  scientifically  studied, 
inquires  into  the  reasons  that  underlie  customs. 

The  institution  of  government  doubtless  grew  out 
of  that  of  the  family.  The  latter  was  not  always, 
and  is  not  everywhere,  restricted  to  the  narrow 
degrees  of  kinship  that  we  recognize  as  alone  belong- 
ing to  it.  The  tendency  originally  was  to  embrace 
all  of  one  kindred  in  one  family,  and  this  is  the 
true  origin  of  the  gens.  But  here  came  in  another 
apparently  antagonistic  principle.  Somehow  the 
lowest  races  of  men  realize  that  close  breeding  is 
injurious.  How  they  find  it  out  is  an  interesting 
question,  but  one  that  cannot  be  discussed  here. 
They  all  know  it  and  act  upon  this  knowledge.  To 
preserve  the  vigor  of  the  race  is  next  in  importance 
to  preserving  its  existence.  Therefore,  marriage 
institutions  must  be  framed  to  secure  this  end  as 
well  as  the  other.  Hence  the  widespread  and  severe 
penalties  against  marrying  within  the  gens.  Leav- 
ing the  vast  subject  of  primitive  marriage  with  these 
few  general  liints,  we  may  further  note  the  associa- 
tion of  gentes  into  tribes  and  the  consolidation,  by 
war  or  otherwise,  of  tribes  into  nations.  From  this 
to  the  study  of  the  semi-civilized  and  civilized  na- 
tions and  governments  of  the  world  the  steps  are 
easy  and  natural. 

Going  back  again  to  the  earliest  dawn  of  society 


I30  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  parti 

we  may  take  up  another  prominent  class  of  phe- 
nomena and  study  the  development  of  human 
thought.  The  simplest  phenomena  of  nature  have 
always  been  regarded  as  taking  place  according  to 
natural  laws.  The  experience  of  the  race  and  of 
each  individual  is  sufficient  to  teach  this.  Primi- 
tive man  is  not  troubled  about  the  causes  of  the 
facts  of  everyday  experience,  and  unbeknown  to 
himself,  he  reaches  the  scientific  conception  of  uni- 
formity and  invariability  in  this  restricted  field.  In 
fact,  in  a  still  narrower  field,  animals  also  act  upon 
this  same  principle.  If  they  are  not  rational,  they 
at  least  are  not  irrational.  What  mind  qualities 
they  manifest  are  always  thoroughly  practical  and 
sane.  Their  acts  are  always  characterized  by  what 
is  called  "horse  sense."  It  is  only  rational  man 
who  deviates  from  this  norm  and  indulges  in  irra- 
tional actions.  This  happens  as  soon  as  he  begins 
to  reason  about  phenomena,  I'.g.,  to  draw  inferences 
from  the  facts  of  observation.  His  data  are  always 
at  first  necessarily  insufficient  to  enable  him  to  draw 
the  correct  conclusion,  and  he  consequently  draws 
an  erroneous  one.  When  we  reflect  that  it  has 
required  ages  of  exhaustive  scientific  investigation 
to  enable  us  to  reason  correctly  about  the  causes  of 
such  everyday  phenomena  as  an  echo,  a  shadow,  or 
a  reflection  in  a  pool  of  water,  we  can  readily  see 
how  impossible  it  must  be  for  primitive  man  to  reach 
the  solution  of  the  recondite  problems  that  nature 
constantly  thrusts  upon  him.     But   the   fact  that, 


CHAP.  VI  THE  DATA    OF  SOCIOLOGY  131 

unlike  the  humbler  and  more  sensible  creatures 
below  him,  he  tries  to  solve  these  problems,  is  just 
what  stamps  him  as  a  superior  being.  This  act  of 
his  is  the  beginning  of  philosophy,  and  the  study  of 
the  philosophy  of  primitive  man  constitutes  legiti- 
mate data  for  sociology.  Primitive  philosophy  is 
always  anthropomorphic.  A  phenomenon,  from  its 
very  name,  is  a  change,  a  transformation,  an  activity. 
But  the  only  being  the  primitive  man  knows  to  pos- 
sess the  power  of  spontaneous  activity  is  himself, 
and  he  naturally  imputes  to  every  other  change  the 
same  power.  I  need  not  trace  the  steps  from  this 
primordial  stage  to  a  full-fledged  mythology,  but 
mythology  constitutes  the  philosophy  of  all  unde- 
veloped races.  Out  of  mythology  grows  religion,  if 
it  is  not  itself  religion,  and  religion  is  essentially 
a  product  of  man's  rational  faculties  applied  to 
transcendental  questions.  It  can  only  be  from  a 
profound  misconception  of  this  truth  that  Mr.  Ben- 
jamin Kidd,  in  his  book  on  Social  Evolution^ 
repeatedly  speaks  of  religion  as  "ultra-rational." 
It  has  surprised  me  greatly  that  the  religious  world 
has  failed  to  call  him  to  account  for  such  a  fallacy, 
and  in  seeming  rather  to  uphold  him,  it  is  tacitly 
admitting  this,  greatly  to  its  discredit.  Religion  is 
primarily  and  fundamentally  rational.  It  had  its 
origin  in  an  effort  of  the  reason.  No  being  without 
a  well-developed  reason  is  capable  of  conceiving  of 
a  religious  idea.  It  is,  in  fact,  one  of  the  great 
branches  of  philosophy,  and  the  history  of  religion 


132  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  part  i 

is  in  great  part  the  history  of  human  thought.  At 
every  stage  it  constitutes  most  important  data  for 
the  science  of  sociology. 

And  then  we  might  go  back  again  and  take  up 
another  great  trunk  line  of  social  history  and  trace 
the  rise  and  progress  of  the  arts.  Nothing  is  more 
fundamentally  important  to  sociology  than  to  study 
the  workings  of  the  inventive  faculty,  spurred  on  by 
its  strict  mother  necessity.  Leaving  it  to  the  psychol- 
ogists to  teach  how  this  most  important  of  all  psychic 
attributes  arose,^  the  sociological  course  may  limit  it- 
self to  the  study  of  its  products  and  to  tracing  it  down 
through  history  to  where  it  finally  ushered  in  the  age 
of  machinery.  Involved  in  this  is  the  whole  history  of 
human  industry,  and  political  economy  is  itself  only 
a  special  department  of  this  wider  field  of  research. 

This  is  the  place  to  point  out  the  grounds  that 
exist  for  the  claims  of  the  historical  school  of  politi- 
cal economy.  We  have  seen  that  the  data  of  soci- 
ology are,  properly  understood,  essentially  historical. 
Sociology,  to  become  a  true  science,  must  rest  on 
facts.  It  must  consist  of  a  body  of  truth,  i.e.,  of 
broad  principles  derived  from  an  accurate  coordina- 
tion of  known  facts.  But  from  the  nature  of  the 
case  these  facts  must  be  furnished  by  the  activities  of 
human  beings.  These  activities,  taken  in  a  broad 
sense,  constitute  human  history,  and  as  soon  as  we 
can  divest  ourselves  of  the  idea  that  history  is  limited 

1  Cf.  Psychic  Factors  of  Civilization,  Part  II.,  especially  chaps, 
xxvii.-xxx. 


CHAP.  VI  THE  DATA    OF  SOCIOLOGY  1 33 

to  a  narrative  of  the  doings  of  a  few  men  whom 
events  chance  to  bring  to  the  surface  at  long  inter- 
vals, it  will  become  apparent  that  the  entire  indus- 
trial activity  of  the  world  belongs  to  history.  But 
in  such  a  vast  field  it  is  very  important  to  find  some 
mode  of  simplifying  phenomena.  It  is  necessary  to 
seize  upon  certain  natural  keys  to  the  whole  system. 
If  a  few  of  the  principal  strands  upon  which  it  is  all 
woven  can  be  discovered  and  kept  distinct,  the  whole 
web  may  be  seen  to  much  greater  advantage.  There 
are  many  of  these,  and  each  student  may  choose  his 
method.  No  better  system  has  ever  been  proposed 
than  that  of  regarding  events  as  products  of  ideas 
and  classifying  ideas.  This  is  the  true  psychic 
method  and  recognizes  sociology  as  directly  resting 
upon  psychology.  It  is  found  that  the  progress  of 
intelligence  produces  regular  and  necessary  changes 
in  human  ideas.  In  the  primordial  blank  condition 
of  the  mind  the  anthropomorphic  mode  of  interpre- 
tation is  the  only  one  ;  inanimate  objects  are  ani- 
mated and  animals  are  endowed  with  intelligence. 
Fetishism  prevails.  In  the  next  stage  intelligence 
and  will  are  disembodied  and  ascribed  to  immaterial 
or  spiritual  beings.  Polytheism  reigns.  At  length 
the  number  of  these  beings  suffers  a  reduction  and 
ultimately  they  are  limited  to  one.  Monotheism 
holds  sway.  Under  monotheism  the  spirit  of  sjiecu- 
lation  finds  encouragement,  and  with  it  the  forces  of 
nature  and  the  properties  of  matter  are  erected  into 
80  many  separate  and  independent  existences  or  en- 


134  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  part  i 

titles.  Ontology  or  metaphysics  dominates  human 
thought.  The  faith  in  such  entities  is  not  reveren- 
tial, and  the  bolder  spirits  soon  question  them  and 
dare  to  institute  investigation.  The  result  is  always 
the  same,  and  the  true  order  of  nature  is  brought  to 
light.  How  profoundly  the  whole  social  structure 
is  influenced  by  the  domination  of  one  after  another 
of  these  great  fundamental  classes  of  ideas,  can  only 
be  understood  by  a  careful  study  of  human  history 
from  this  point  of  view.  The  great  number  of  social 
correlations  that  can  be  found  by  such  an  inquiry  is 
especially  interesting.  The  most  noted  is  that  of  mil- 
itancy and  the  regime  of  status,  as  Sir  Henry  Maine 
calls  it,  with  the  earlier  theological  stages,  and  of  in- 
dustrialism and  the  regime  of  contract,  in  Spencer's 
phrase,  with  the  later  rational  and  scientific  stages. 

But,  as  I  said,  this  is  not  the  only  legitimate  and 
successful  way  to  simplify  the  study  of  the  real  his- 
tory of  society,  and  the  German  historical  school  has 
already  accumulated  an  immense  amount  of  data, 
especially  with  reference  to  the  historic  period,  and 
is  still  at  work,  almost,  as  it  would  seem,  without 
conceiving  the  idea  of  making  any  general  applica- 
tion of  it  to  the  founding  of  a  science  of  sociology, 
but  which  is  certain  sooner  or  later  to  be  thus  util- 
ized to  the  advantage  of  our  science. 

I  have  already  referred  to  statistics  as  one  of  the 
chief  sources  of  sociological  data  so  far  as  relates  to 
the  history  that  is  in  process  of  making  in  modern 
states,  and  it  would  be  a  serious  fault  not  to  men- 


CHAP.  VI  THE  DATA    OF  SOCIOLOGY  135 

tion  the  method  adopted  by  Spencer  under  the  name 
of  "  descriptive  sociology  "  for  the  lower  races  now 
occupying  the  outlying  portions  of  the  globe.  But 
the  data  acquired  by  this  method  lose  much  of  their 
value  through  their  extreme  unreliableness.  The 
travelers  who  have  supplied  the  greater  part  of  this 
material,  however  well  meaning,  lack  for  the  most 
part  the  scientific  training  necessary  to  qualify  them 
for  such  work,  and  the  only  correct  method  is  that 
of  sending  out  trained  observers  representing  some 
scientific  body,  who  shall  make  systematic  observa- 
tions under  the  guidance  of  fixed  principles,  designed 
to  avoid  to  the  utmost  the  errors  into  which  the 
casual^  observer  is  liable  to  fall.  This  method  has 
been  adopted  for  many  years  by  the  United  States 
Bureau  of  Ethnology  in  the  study  of  the  North 
American  Indians,  and  the  numerous  able  and  volu- 
minous reports  of  that  bureau  constitute  an  inval- 
uable resource  for  the  sociologist  who  aims  to  found 
the  science  upon  a  broad  ethnic  basis. 

Much  has  been  said  of  late  about  the  so-called 
"special  social  sciences"  and  their  relation  to  sociol- 
ogy. Some  regard  sociology  as  consisting  entirely 
of  these  sciences  and  as  having  no  existence  apart 
from  them.  Others  distinguish  sociology  from  the 
special  social  sciences,  but  in  different  ways.  The 
latter  are  sometimes  identified  with  "  social  science," 
and  this  is  treated  as  distinct  from  sociology.  There 
is  less  variety  of  opinion  relative  to  the  nature  of 
the  special  social  sciences  than  there  is  relative  to 


136  SOCIAL  PHILOSOPHY  PART  I 

what  sociology  is  if  distinguished  from  these.  I 
have  often  been  asked  my  opinion  on  this  question, 
and  this  seems  to  be  the  place  to  indicate  my  method 
of  dealing  with  it. 

The  special  social  sciences  are  numerous,  and,  in 
many  cases,  there  is  room  for  differences  of  opinion 
as  to  what  constitutes  such  sciences,  but  the  follow- 
ing are  the  principal  ones  about  which  there  is  little 
dispute  :  ethnography,  ethnology,  technology,  archae- 
ology, demography ;  history,  economics,  jurispru- 
dence, politics,  ethics  —  all  taken  in  a  scientific  sense, 
and  with  such  natural  subdivision  of  each  as  it  admits 
of.  No  one  of  these,  nor  all  of  them  together,  can 
be  said  to  form  sociology,  but  sociology  is  the  synthe- 
sis of  them  all.  It  is  impossible  to  perform  this  syn- 
thesis without  a  clear  conception  of  the  elements 
entering  into  it.  These,  therefore,  constitute  the 
data  for  the  process.  The  special  social  sciences, 
then,  are  not  themselves  the  science  of  sociology,  but 
they  constitute  the  data  of  sociology. 

From  all  that  has  been  said  it  follows,  that  soci- 
ology proper,  or  the  science  of  the  laws  of  society,  is 
a  study  that  requires  ample  preparation.  I  cannot, 
therefore,  agree  with  those  who  would  introduce  it 
early  in  the  undergraduate  course.  At  the  earliest 
it  should  not  be  taken  up  before  the  senior  year,  and 
its  study  in  any  adequate  manner  should  be  made 
postgraduate.  It  is  essentially  a  university  study, 
while  the  preparation  for  it,  i.e.^  the  acquirement  of 
the  Data  of  Sociology,  belongs  to  the  gymnasium. 


PART  II 
SOCIAL  SCIENCE 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  SOCIAL  FORCES  1 

The  second,  or  Greek,  component  of  the  word 
sociology  is  the  one  that  is  usually  employed  in  the 
names  of  sciences.  While  etymologically  it  only 
signifies  a  treatise  on  some  subject,  it  has  come  to 
signify  a  treatise  of  a  systematic  kind  on  a  subject 
that  can  be  reduced  to  law.  The  proper  designa- 
tion of  a  true  science  should  have  the  termination 
"  nomy  "  or  "  onomy,"  from  the  Greek  w'/ao?,  a  law. 
Especially  should  this  be  the  case  for  the  abstract 
sciences,  or  those  dealing  primarily  with  laws  instead 
of  concrete  objects,  such  as  are  all  five  of  the  sciences 
of  the  Comtean  "hierarchy."  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
the  name  of  only  one  of  these  sciences,  astronomy, 
has  the  proper  termination.  Bionomy  has  already 
been  used,^  and  psyehonomy  and  socionomy  are  natu- 
rally formed,  but  physics  and  chemistry  do  not  readily 
admit  of  a  similar  modification.  The  former  might 
logically  be  divided  into  baronomy  and  etheronomy, 
the  first  embracing  the  gravitant  forces,  and  the 
second  magnetism,  electricity,    and  all   the   radiant 

1  American  Journal  of  Sociology,  Vol.  II.,  No.  1,  Chicago,  July, 
1896,  pp.  82-95. 

3  Comte,  Phil.  Fos.,  III.,  331. 

139 


140  SOCIAL  SCIENCE  part  n 

forces.  Chemistry,  perhaps  derived  from  Greek 
')(7]lieCa^  or  from  xVMi  ^  measure,  or  even  from  %7?/Ata, 
the  Greek  form  of  Khmi,  a  name  for  Egypt,  has 
come  to  us  through  the  Arabs  in  the  form  alchemy^ 
which  was  variously  spelled  in  early  English  litera- 
ture, one  of  the  variants  being  alconomy,  said  to  have 
been  employed  from  its  analogy  to  astronomy.  There 
would  be  no  impropriety  in  restoring  this  variant  and 
thus  completing  the  series  :  Astronomy,  baronomy, 
etheronomy,  alconomy,  bionomy,  psychonomy,  soci- 
onomy. 

The  scientific  idea  embodied  in  the  word  law  is 
uniformity  of  movement.  But  moving  bodies,  such 
as  atoms,  collide  and  transfer  their  motions  to  others. 
Upon  this  is  founded  the  modern  doctrines  in  me- 
chanics discussed  under  the  general  name  of  the 
"theory  of  units."  The  three  ultimate  elements  in 
this  theory  are  mass,  space,  and  time.  Motion  being 
assumed,  the  rate,  or  velocity,  is  equal  to  the  space 
divided  by  the  time.  When  the  mass,  or  quantity 
of  matter  is  taken  into  the  account  there  arise  four 
manifestations  of  force.  The  simplest  of  these  is 
mere  momentum,  which  is  equal  to  the  product  of  the 
mass  into  the  velocity.  The  next  simplest  stage  is 
force  proper,  which  is  the  mass  into  the  rate  of 
change  of  velocity,  or  acceleration.  The  third  is 
energy,  as  now  understood  by  physicists,  i.e.,  kinetic 
energy,  which  is  half  the  product  of  the  mass  into 
the  square  of  the  velocity.  The  fourth  stage  repre- 
sents the  power,  or  rate  at  which  energy  is  produced 


CHAP.  VII  THE  SOCIAL  FORCES  14I 

or  consumed.  The  distinction  between  these  funda- 
mental quantities  is  clearly  shown  by  the  following 
algebraic  statement,  showing  how  the  units  of  mass, 
space,  and  time  enter  them.  Denoting  these  units  by 
m,  «,  and  f,  respectively,  we  have :  — 


Momentu 

ms 
ni=  — ,  or  two 

Force 

ms        mv 
=  -r-.  or  — 

Energy 

ms'' 
=  — —,  or  mv 

Fewer         =  — -,  or 


The  theory  of  units  is  applicable  to  every  true 
science  in  proportion  as  it  can  be  reduced  to  exact 
measurement.  In  mechanics,  astronomy,  and  physics 
the  phenomena  can,  for  the  most  part,  be  thus  re- 
duced, but  in  the  more  complex  sciences,  at  least  in 
their  present  state,  this  can  be  done  only  to  a  limited 
extent.  It  must  not,  however,  be  inferred  from  this 
that  exact  laws  do  not  prevail  in  these  domains. 
They  are  as  rigid  here  as  in  the  simpler  ones,  and  the 
only  imperfection  is  in  our  knowledge  of  them.  The 
acceptance  of  this  statement  is  what  constitutes  scien- 
tific faith.  Those  who  do  not  accept  it  and  doubt 
the  uniformity  and  invariability  of  natural  law  in 
the  fields  of  life,  mind,  and  human  action,  simply 
lack  faitli  in  the  order  of  the  universe. 

In  a  certain  very  wide  sense  all  force  is  one,  but 


142  SOCIAL   SCIENCE  part  ll 

from  its  different  modes  of  manifestation  it  is  con- 
venient to  recognize  a  number  of  forces.  The  law 
of  the  conservation  of  energy,  or  of  the  correlation 
or  transmutation  of  forces,  shows  that  all  these  dif- 
ferent forms  of  the  universal  force  are  intercon- 
vertible. Astronomy  and  baronomy  deal  with  the 
gravitant  forces,  while  etheronomy  and  perhaps 
alconomy,  deal  with  the  radiant  forces,  which  seem 
to  be  opposed  to  the  former.  The  workings  of  the 
universal  force  in  bionomy  we  call  vital  or  biotic, 
while  in  psychonomy  we  call  them  psychic.  For 
socionomy  I  long  ago  proposed  the  name  '•'■  social 
forces,''^  1  not  as  an  absolutely  new  expression,  but  as 
the  first  attempt  to  give  it  a  definite  technical  mean- 
ing. For  I  went  into  a  somewhat  elaborate  expla- 
nation of  what  constitutes  the  social  forces,  and 
especially  of  what  they  have  accomplished  and  how 
they  have  accomplished  it.  In  the  second  volume 
(chap,  viii.)  I  essayed  to  prove  that  they  are  true 
natural  forces  and  obey  the  Newtonian  laws  of 
motion.  But  I  did  not  in  that  work  attempt  to 
show  that  sociology  derives  its  primary  laws  directly 
from  psychology.  This  was  done  in  my  Psychic 
Factors  of  Civilization^  published  in  1893.  In  the 
fifth  chapter  a  portion  of  this  argument  was  briefly 
recapitulated.  The  present  chapter  can  at  best  be 
only  a  similar  brief  recapitulation  of  the  general  treat- 
ment of  the  social  forces  as  set  forth  in  those  works. 

1  Dynamic  Sociology,  New  York,  1883,  Vol.  I.,  chap,  vii.,  pp. 
468  ff. 


CHAP.  VII  THE  SOCIAL  FORCES  143 

All  sciences,  in  order  to  be  such,  must  be  domains 
of  forces.  Until  a  group  of  facts  and  phenomena 
reaches  the  stage  at  which  these  can  be  generalized 
into  laws,  which,  in  turn,  are  merely  the  expressions 
of  the  uniform  working  of  its  underlying  forces, 
it  cannot  be  appropriately  denominated  a  science. 
Biology,  since  Darwin,  has  fairly  entered  upon  this 
part  of  its  history.  Psychology  and  sociology  have 
scarcely  reached  it.  Most  of  the  work  in  both  is 
still  confined  to  the  observation  of  isolated  facts 
without  much  attempt  at  their  coordination  or  reduc- 
tion to  law.  In  psychology,  as  we  saw,  forces  have 
as  yet  scarcely  been  recognized.  Philosophers  were 
content,  until  within  quite  recent  times,  to  study  the 
phenomena  of  the  most  derivative  of  the  human 
faculties,  and  scarcely  a  suggestion  can  be  found 
that  these  faculties  could  have  been  naturally  pro- 
duced. Intellect,  memory,  reflection,  imagination, 
and  other  admittedly  remarkable  phenomena  have 
been  long  studied,  and  a  vast  amount  of  speculation 
has  been  done  in  these  fields.  But  the  affective  side 
of  the  mind  in  which  the  forces  reside  has  been 
ignored  so  far  as  any  attempt  to  understand  its 
relations  to  the  rest  of  mind  is  concerned.  The 
appetites,  passions,  and  even  emotions,  though  rec- 
ognized as  having  a  necessary  relation  to  ethics,  have 
not  been  thought  of  as  an  integral  part  of  mind. 
They  are,  in  fact,  the  genetic  source  of  all  the  other 
faculties,  the  seat  of  all  psychic  power,  and  the  basis 
of  any  true  science  of  mind. 


144  SOCIAL  SCIENCE  part  n 

In  a  somewhat  similar  manner  the  dynamic  basis 
of  society  has  been  overlooked.  The  cause,  not 
only  of  the  primary  fact  of  association  itself,  but 
of  all  other  human  activities,  is  appetite.  Whether 
looked  at  from  the  standpoint  of  function  or  from 
that  of  feeling,  i.e.^  whether  we  consider  the  end  of 
nature  or  that  of  the  creature,  it  comes  to  the  same 
thing.  Every  act  proceeds  from  motive,  and  that 
motive  can  be  none  other  than  the  satisfaction  of 
some  want.  The  capacity  to  want  is  planted  in  the 
organic  structures.  It  is  the  necessary  concomitant 
of  the  capacity  to  feel.  The  primary  form  of  feeling 
is  intensive,  ^.e.,  it  is  either  agreeable  or  disagree- 
able, pleasure  or  pain  in  some  degree,  however  slight. 
This  is  the  incipient  distinction  between  good  and 
evil.  The  pleasurable  is  the  good,  the  painful  is  the 
bad.  Every  organism  is  thus  constituted  as  a  con- 
dition to  its  existence,  and  equally  essential  is  it  that 
the  impulse  should  exist  to  perform  the  appropriate 
acts.  This  impulse  causes  the  creature  to  seek  the 
good  and  shun  the  evil.  All  this  is  readily  accounted 
for  on  the  leading  principle  of  modern  biology,  natu- 
ral selection,  or,  as  I  prefer  to  call  it,  the  principle 
of  advantage.  In  short,  desire^  taken  in  its  widest 
sense,  both  positive  and  negative,  is  the  real  force  in 
the  sentient  world.  It  is  the  dynamic  agent  in 
the  animal  world  including  the  human  sphere,  and 
therefore  constitutes  the  social  force.  It  is  essen- 
tially psychic,  and  this  is  the  bond  which  lashes 
sociology  so  directly  and  so  firmly  to  psychology. 


CHAP.  VII  THE  SOCIAL  FORCES  I45 

The  same  reason  exists,  and  no  better,  for  speak- 
ing of  this  phenomenon  in  the  plural  and  recognizing 
the  existence  of  mcial  forces  as  we  saw  for  speaking 
of  the  universal  force  in  the  plural  and  recognizing 
physical  forces.  Just  as  gravitation,  heat,  light,  etc., 
are  only  so  many  modes  of  manifestation  of  the  uni- 
versal force,  so  the  various  social  forces  that  may  be 
separately  considered  are  only  so  many  modes  of 
manifestation  of  the  one  social  or  psychic  force. 
Indeed,  this  psychic  force  itself  is  in  its  turn  only 
a  mode  of  manifestation  of  the  universal  force. 
"Desire  is  the  all-pervading,  world-animating  prin- 
ciple, the  universal  nhus  and  pulse  of  nature,  the 
mainspring  of  all  action,  and  the  life-power  of  the 
world.  It  is  organic  force.  Its  multiple  forms, 
like  the  many  forces  of  the  physical  world,  are  the 
varied  expressions  of  one  universal  force.  They  are 
transmutable  into  one  another.  Their  sum  is  un- 
changed thereby,  and  all  vital  energy  is  conserved. 
It  is  the  basis  of  psychic  physics  and  the  only  foun- 
dation for  a  science  of  mind. 

"  It  should,  liowever,  be  added  that  the  parallel  be- 
tween physics  and  psychics,  as  tlius  defined,  fails  at 
one  point.  While,  so  far  as  is  known,  there  has 
never  been  any  loss  of  psychic  energy,  it  is  certain 
that  there  has  been  an  immense  increase  of  it.  In- 
deed, time  was  when  none  existed.  It  iias  devel- 
oped or  been  evolved  with  all  organic  nature  and  has 
increased  pari  passu  witli  the  increase  of  mind  and 
the  development  of   bruin.     Complete  analogy  be- 

L 


146  SOCIAL  SCIENCE  part  il 

tween  the  organic  and  inorganic  forces  is  not  reached 
until  it  is  recognized  that  the  former  are  derived 
from  the  latter,  and  that  vital  and  psychic  forces  are 
simply  additional  forms  of  the  universal  force.  The 
soul  of  man  has  come  from  the  soul  of  the  atom  after 
passing  through  the  great  alembic  of  organic  life."^ 

This  new  force  represents  a  step  forward  in  the 
evolution  of  the  world.  There  had  been  many  such 
steps  before  this  one  was  taken,  and,  as  we  shall  see 
in  a  future  chapter,  there  has  been  at  least  one  since. 
Each  such  step  represents  progress,  and  this  prog- 
ress is  always  in  the  nature  of  evolving  new  modes 
of  manifestation  of  the  universal  force.  Not  only 
so,  but  each  successive  step  secures  a  better,  z.e.,  a 
higher,  more  efficient  mode  of  manifesting  it.  "The 
course  of  evolution  .  .  .  has  been  in  the  direction 
from  the  unorganized  and  inefficacious  toward  the 
organized  and  efficacious  through  the  process  of  stor- 
ing energy  in  appropriate  forms.  This  has  taken 
place  by  a  series  of  successive  steps,  each  resulting 
in  a  more  efficient  product,  that  is,  one  possessing,  in 
addition  to  the  properties  of  antecedent  products, 
some  new  property  with  a  special  power  of  its  own 
capable  of  better  work."  ^ 

Such  is  the  essential  or  cosmical  nature  of  the 
social  forces,  and  it  remains  to  consider  in  a  general 
way  the  mode  of  their  operation.     It  is  clear  that 

1  Psychic  Factors,  pp.  55-56. 

2  "The  Natural  Storage  of  Energy,"  The  Monist,  Vol.  V., 
Chicago,  January,  1895,  p.  257. 


CHAP,  vn  THE  SOCIAL  FORCES  1 47 

we  must  proceed  exclusively  from  the  standpoint  of 
feeling.  Each  individual  or  social  unit  must  be  re- 
garded as  a  magazine  of  feelings,  for  the  most  part 
in  the  nature  of  unsatisfied  desires,  and  therefore 
representing  as  much  force  as  it  requires  to  satisfy 
those  desires.  This  energy  is  always  to  a  large  extent 
potential  rather  than  kinetic,  but  the  leading  problem 
of  sociology  is  how  to  convert  the  potential  energies 
of  society  into  kinetic  energy.  The  amount  of  energy 
thus  set  free  is  the  true  measure  of  the  strength  of  the 
social  forces  at  any  given  time. 

The  classification  of  the  social  forces  from  the 
standpoint  of  feeling  is  substantially  the  same  as 
from  that  of  function.  This  results  from  the  fact 
already  explained,  that  both  lead  to  the  same  result 
and  are  the  necessary  correlates  of  each  other.  In 
giving  names  to  them  in  Dynamic  Sociology  I  em- 
ployed terms  that  connote  function  instead  of  feel- 
ing, because  the  latter  would  have  been  difhcult  to 
find.  This  is  due  to  the  functional  side  being  al- 
most the  only  one  ever  mentioned,  so  that,  not  only 
are  there  no  well-crystallized  terms  in  which  to  de- 
scribe the  side  of  feeling,  but  even  with  the  most 
careful  explanation  it  is  difficult  to  convey  the  idea. 
This  is  illustrated  by  the  explanatory  words  which  I 
placed  after  the  several  classes  of  essential  forces  in 
the  table  of  classification  on  page  472  of  Vol.  I., 
which  is  here  reproduced  without  change  :  — 


148 


SOCIAL  SCIENCE 


PART  li 


The 

Social  Forces 

are: 


Essential 
Forces 


Preservative 
Forces 


'  Positive,  gustatory 
(seeking  pleasure). 

Negative,  protective 
(avoiding  pain). 


Direct.     The  sexual 
and  amative  desires. 


Reproductive 
Forces 


Non- 
essential 
Forces 


Indirect.     Parental 
and  consanguineal 
affections. 
^Esthetic  Forces. 

Emotional  (moral)  Forces. 

Intellectual  Forces. 


I  have  seen  no  reason  to  modify  this  classification 
in  any  essential  respect.  Some  slight  change  in  the 
phraseology  might  adapt  it  better  to  such  a  cursory 
treatment  as  I  am  now  making,  and  place  certain  of 
its  aspects  in  a  somewhat  clearer  light.  The  "  Pre- 
servative Forces  "  may  be  called  the  Forces  of  Indi- 
vidual Preservation  ;  the  "  Reproductive  Forces  " 
may  be  called  the  Forces  of  Race  Continuance ;  and 
the  "Non-essential  Forces"  as  a  whole  may  be  called 
the  Forces  of  Race  Elevation.  Attention  may  also 
well  be  drawn  to  the  fact  that  the  "Essential  Forces" 
relate  primarily  to  bodily  or  physical  wants,  while 
the  "  Non-essential  Forces  "  relate  chiefly  to  mental 
or  spiritual  needs.  These  terms  still  connote  func- 
tions, which  seems  unavoidable,  and  the  Social  Forces 
may  be  reclassified,  as  follows  :  — 


CHAP.  VII  THE   SOCIAL  FORCES  149 

Physical 

Individual  Preservation 
Positive 
Negative 
Eace  Continuance 
Direct 
Indirect 
Spiritual 

Esthetic 

Moral 

Intellectual 

It  is  always  a  question,  when  treating  of  the  bodily 
or  physical  social  forces,  whether  it  is  preferable  to 
begin  with  the  preservative  or  the  reproductive 
group.  There  are  many  reasons  why  the  latter 
seem  to  be  the  more  fundamental.  The  race  is  more 
important  than  the  individual,  and  in  developed 
society  the  family  is  the  most  important  social  struct- 
ure and  the  basis  of  the  state.  But  going  farther 
back  and  tracing  the  two  principles  entirely  through 
the  biological  series,  we  at  last  arrive  at  the  most 
fundamental  of  all  the  truths  involved,  viz.,  that  in 
its  ultimate  analysis  and  most  original  form,  repro- 
duction is  merely  a  mode  of  nutrition.  Resting  the 
case  upon  this  primordial  truth,  I  will  adhere  to  the 
order  of  treatment  which  I  adopted  in  Dynamic 
Sociology  and  make  the  nutritive  group  the  first  of 
the  essential  social  forces. 

Forces  of  Individual  Preservation.  —  When  we 
come  to  deal  with  the  social  forces  from  tlio  sub- 
jective side,  i.e.,  from  the  standpoint  of  feeling,  we 


150  SOCIAL   SCIENCE  part  ii 

have  to  consider  their  direct  eifects  as  true  natural 
forces.  The  individuals  in  whom  they  reside  must 
be  represented  as  impelled  by  them  to  perform  acts, 
and  as  obeying  these  impulses  as  rigidly  as  physical 
bodies  obey  the  influences  that  cause  them  to  move. 
These  impulses  in  human  beings  are  of  course  ex- 
ceedingly complex  and  subtle,  so  that  in  many  cases 
this  does  not  seem  to  be  true,  but  this  is  because  we 
are  unable  to  take  them  all  into  account.  In  the 
advanced  stages  of  human  development  when  intel- 
lectual and  moral  influences  have  entered  the  field 
the  case  is  still  more  complicated,  but  even  then,  if 
there  is  a  social  science,  what  I  have  characterized 
as  scientific  faith,  when  it  is  fully  developed,  does 
not  permit  any  doubt  to  come  in  and  qualify  in  the 
least  the  universal  law,  and  we  must  say,  with  Im- 
manuel  Kant,  that  "if  we  could  investigate  all  the 
phenomena  of  his  [man's]  volition  (^Willkuhr)  to 
the  bottom  there  would  not  be  a  single  human  act 
which  we  could  not  with  certainty  predict  and 
recognize  as  necessarily  proceeding  from  its  ante- 
cedent conditions."  1 

The  preservative  forces  are  among  the  simplest  of 
man's  nature.  They  may  be  divided  into  two  classes, 
negative  and  positive.  The  negative  ones  are  those 
that  protect  him  from  injury  and  destruction. 
Whatever  produces  pain  is  shunned,  and  even  if 
nothing  were  known  about  death,  every  individual 

1  Kritik  der  reinen  Vernunft,  ed.  Hartenstein,  Leipzig,  1868, 
p.  380. 


CHAP.  VII  THE  SOCIAL  FORCES  151 

would  fly  from  whatever  experience  had  taught  him 
to  be  productive  of  painful  effects.  The  mere  escape 
from  physical  danger  and  from  enemies  is  only  a 
small  part  of  the  effect  of  this  class  of  forces.  In 
man  the  most  important  sociological  effects  have 
been  the  many  ways  in  which  it  has  led  him  to  jiro- 
vide  for  himself  clothing  and  shelter  as  a  protection 
from  the  elements  and  from  a  hostile  environment  in 
general.  The  application  of  all  this  to  the  science 
of  sociology  is  too  obvious  to  require  elaboration. 

We  will  therefore  pass  to  the  other  or  positive 
class  of  preservative  social  forces.  These  have 
directly  to  do  with  the  function  of  nutrition.  The 
fact  that  every  one  will  seek  food  is  so  patent  that 
no  one  ever  stops  to  reflect  upon  a  possible  condition 
in  which  this  should  not  be  the  case.  Yet  such  a 
condition  is  easy  to  imagine.  All  we  have  to  do  is 
to  suppose  an  individual  devoid  of  taste  and  whose 
stomach  is  incapable  of  the  particular  sensation 
called  hunger.  This  sensation  is  very  different 
from  the  ordinary  forms  of  pain,  and  it  would  make 
no  difference  how  painful  the  sensation  of  an  empty 
stomach  miglit  be,  if  it  did  not  take  this  particular 
form  no  effort  would  be  put  forth  to  supply  its 
needs.  Hunger  is  a  form  of  desire,  and  as  such 
impels  to  the  appropriate  action  for  its  satisfaction. 
Ordinary  pain,  no  matter  how  acute,  does  not  thus 
impel  action.  The  case  is  not  a  purely  hypothetical 
one.  Tliere  have  been  recorded  in  the  medical  books 
many  cases  in  which  all  sense  of  taste  was  wanting, 


152  SOCIAL   SCIENCE  PART  n 

and  the  temporary  loss  of  appetite  is  a  common 
occurrence.  Some  cases  have  been  brought  to  light 
in  which  this  state  was  chronic,  and  strenuous  efforts 
were  made  artificially  to  introduce  into  the  apathetic 
body  sufficient  nutritive  material  to  sustain  life. 
But  it  is  obvious  that  in  any  but  such  exceptional 
cases,  situated  in  the  midst  of  an  environment  of  in- 
telligence and  scientific  skill,  such  a  condition  would 
speedily  result  in  death,  and  that  without  the  aid  of 
natural  appetite  no  creature,  however  intelligent, 
scientific,  or  skilled,  could  persist.  A  fortiori^  no 
inchoate  and  undeveloped  being  could  survive  under 
such  circumstances.  If  any  such  creatures  have  by 
chance  been  produced  they  must  have  immediately 
perished  and  left  no  record  of  their  evanescent 
career.  This  alone  is  adequate  to  account,  on  sound, 
scientific  principles,  for  the  existence  of  the  sensation 
of  appetite.  If,  in  the  infinite  number  of  devices 
which  we  may  conceive  Nature  to  have  tried  in  her 
effort  to  discover  a  protective  principle  no  such 
quality  had  been  found,  there  could  have  been  no 
animal  world. 

It  would  be  easy  to  carry  this  reasoning  much 
farther  and  to  show  that  the  principle  applies 
equally  to  every  other  form  of  desire.  Indeed,  it 
is  the  only  conceivable  explanation  of  the  funda- 
mental phenomenon  of  feeling  of  whatever  kind. 
Pleasure  and  pain  are  simply  devices  of  Nature  for 
the  preservation  of  such  organic  beings  as  have  no 
other  adequate  means,  and  the  existence  of  a  sen- 


CHAP.  VII  THE  SOCIAL  FORCES  1 53 

tient  world  is  its  natural  result.  Desire  is  that 
form  of  remembrance,  either  original  or  inherited, 
of  pleasurable  sensations  which  prompts  the  acts 
necessary  to  their  repetition,  and  from  the  manner 
in  which  it  has  originated  as  a  condition  to  sur- 
vival, the  satisfaction  that  results  is  that  which 
maintains  life.  Pain,  though,  as  it  is  now  easy  to 
see,  a  fundamentally  different  thing,  and  not  in  any 
proper  sense  the  opposite  of  pleasure,  had  a  similar 
origin,  and  the  class  of  negative  forces  last  con- 
sidered result  from  the  device  called  pain,  which 
all  creatures  susceptible  of  it  instantly  fly  from, 
and  thus  preserve  their  existence.  Such  is  the 
scientific  solution  of  the  problem  of  evil  which  has 
been  so  long  discussed  without  reaching  any  satis- 
factory answer.  It  is  not  a  moral  problem  at  all, 
but  a  biological  or  psychological  one,  and  is  ex- 
ceedingly simple.  To  live  is  to  suffer,  as  the  pes- 
simists assert,  but  to  the  sociologist  the  problem 
is  how  to  minimize  the  amount  of  suffering  and 
magnify  the  volume  of  life.  He  is  on  strictly 
scientific  ground.  The  problem  is  a  practical  one, 
and  although  the  complete  abolition  of  pain,  like 
that  of  friction  in  machinery,  is  in  the  nature  of 
things  impossible,  still,  approaches  toward  it,  in 
the  one  case  as  in  the  other,  may  be  and  are  con- 
tinually made. 

These  two  innate  tendencies  or  impulses  of  human 
nature,  to  escape  destructive  influences  and  to  seek  nu- 
tritive substances,  constitute  the  preservative  forces 


1 54  SOCIAL  SCIENCE  part  ii 

of  society.  Tliey  are  universal,  invariable,  and 
reliable,  quite  as  much  so  as  the  physical  agencies 
with  which  mechanical  science  deals.  Sociology 
must  build  upon  them  as  physics  builds  upon  the 
laws  of  gravitation,  heat,  light,  or  electricity,  and 
only  thus  can  sociology  become  a  science. 

Forces  of  Race  Continuance.  —  There  is  no  differ- 
ence in  the  principle  underlying  the  preservative 
and  the  reproductive  forces.  Independently  of  the 
fact  above  referred  to  that  the  latter  in  the  last 
analysis  prove  to  be  only  a  mode  of  the  former,  we 
see  that  the  law  of  advantage  must  secure  the  one 
as  much  as  the  other.  In  all  the  higher  forms  of 
animal  life,  and  emphatically  in  man,  the  reproduc- 
tive force  is,  like  the  preservative,  an  appetite,  and 
its  strength  is  as  much  greater  than  other  appe- 
tites as  the  function  is  more  imperative.  It  is 
equally  universal,  invariable,  and  reliable,  and  upon 
it  as  a  true  natural  force  sociology  can  build  with 
perfect  safety. 

Under  the  influence  of  intellectual  development, 
which,  as  we  saw  in  the  fourth  chapter,  is  attended 
by  a  corresponding  increase  in  man's  sjrnipathetic 
nature  and  in  his  a3sthetic  tastes  which  shape  his 
ideals,  this  mainspring  of  race  preservation  becomes 
spiritualized  and  permeates  society  in  the  form  of 
a  refining  and  ennobling  influence,  which,  although 
far  more  powerful  than  the  primary  appetite,  is 
infinitely  more  complex  and  subtle,  and  hence  be- 
comes a  much  more  difficult  agent  for  the  sociologist 


CHAP.  VII  THE  SOCIAL  FORCES  155 

to  handle.  Philosophers  have  therefore  fought  shy 
of  it  and  abandoned  it  to  the  poets  and  romance 
writers.  This  field  is  therefore  almost  wholly  new 
to  science,  and  any  one  who  attempts  to  enter  it 
from  the  scientific  point  of  view  is  sure  to  be  looked 
upon  with  suspicion.  He  will  usually  be  regarded 
not  only  as  having  departed  from  the  scientific 
method  but  as  displaying  a  diseased  mind.  ]3ut 
this  is  not  necessary.  It  is  possible  to  deal  with 
this  subtle  force  in  a  scientific  way.  In  fact,  sociolo- 
gists must  do  this  or  leave  out  of  view  one  of  the 
leading  factors  of  the  science.  This  transformed 
and  transfigured  agency  in  advanced  societies  must 
be  recognized  and  appreciated  at  its  full  value.  For 
the  sociologist  love  is  not  a  sentiment  in  the  popular 
sense  ;  it  is  a  principle.  It  is  the  second,  if  it  is 
not  the  first,  of  the  great  powers  that  propel  the 
social  machinery. 

Forces  of  Race  Elevation.  —  The  two  classes  of 
forces  thus  far  considered  are  absolutely  essential 
to  life.  Failure  either  to  preserve  the  individual 
or  to  continue  the  race  would  equally  bring  society 
to  an  end.  Man's  mental  or  spiritual  wants  are  not 
thus  imperative.  P^rom  the  standpoint  of  function 
the  forces  of  race  elevation  are  not  essential.  But 
from  tlic  present  standpoint,  viz.,  tliat  of  feeling, 
and  also  at  tlie  same  time  that  of  social  advantage, 
tliey  assume  an  even  greater  importance.  It  was 
shown  in  the  fifth  chapter  that  tliey  contribute  the 
larger   share   of   tlie  volume    of   social   good ;    that 


156  SOCIAL  SCIENCE  part  11 

while  their  "necessity"  is  less  their  "utility"  is 
greater.  The  point  of  view  of  that  chapter  was  that 
of  the  individual,  but  this  is  equally  true  from  the 
point  of  view  of  this  chapter,  which  is  that  of  society. 
The  efforts  put  forth  to  secure  the  higher  order  of 
individual  good  at  which  they  aim  result  in  a  cor- 
respondingly higher  order  of  social  good.  The 
good  sought  by  the  lower  impulses  has  for  the  most 
part  only  a  statical  value.  Although  the  efforts 
put  forth  necessarily,  though  unconsciously,  pro- 
duce change  and  progress,  still  this  is  small  from 
the  very  fact  that  it  is  unconscious.  The  higher 
impulses,  on  the  contrary,  set  up  for  themselves 
conscious  ideals,  aesthetic,  moral,  intellectual,  and 
pursue  them  till  they  are  attained.  They  are  there- 
fore chiefly  dynamic. 

Here  is  perhaps  the  place  to  bring  forward  one  of 
the  most  far-reaching  laws  in  the  domain  of  soci- 
ology, viz.,  that  the  relative  value  of  feeling  and 
function  is  not  a  fixed  but  a  variable  quantity,  and 
that  throughout  organic  evolution  this  ratio  in- 
creases in  favor  of  the  former.  More  precisely 
stated,  the  law  is  that  while  function  is  fixed,  feel- 
ing increases  somewhat  in  proportion  to  develop- 
ment. It  would  be  easy  to  illustrate  this  in  the 
lower  orders  of  life  where  everything  seems  to  be 
subordinated  to  function,  and  nature  seems  wholly 
indifferent  to  feeling.  In  biotic  progress  it  is  ob- 
vious that  the  capacity  for  both  pleasure  and  pain 
increases  with  the  advance  in  structure.     The  truth 


CHAP.  VII  THE  SOCIAL  FORCES  1 57 

is  exemplified  even  in  cases  of  degeneration  where 
the  opposite  obtains.  But  it  is  still  more  apparent 
in  man,  where  the  psychic  and  especially  the  intel- 
lectual element  so  largely  enters  in.  All  that  was 
said  in  the  fifth  chapter  relative  to  the  object  of  man 
and  that  of  nature  applies  at  this  point.  There  has 
been  a  steady  rise,  as  it  were,  in  the  price  of  life. 
The  lowest  savages  value  life  at  a  very  low  figure 
and  throw  it  away  on  the  slightest  provocation. 
The  value  put  upon  human  life  is  one  of  the  safest 
tests  of  true  progress.  The  gradual  abolition  by  the 
most  advanced  nations  of  the  so-called  code  of  honor 
is  one  among  many  of  the  signs  of  this  advance. 
Even  the  dying  out  of  the  spirit  of  martyrdom, 
regarded  by  many  as  a  mark  of  moral  degeneracy, 
is,  on  the  contrary,  an  assertion  of  the  growing 
value  of  life,  and  as  such  is  a  step  forward. 

But  it  is  not  life  alone  that  is  valued  ;  it  is  rather 
what  life  affords.  The  primitive  man  is  not  only 
indifferent  to  life,  but  he  is  also  indifferent  to  pain, 
as  witness  the  horrible  mutilations  to  which  savages 
so  often  voluntarily  submit,  as  we  are  told,  without 
manifesting  the  usual  reflex  movements  which  even 
the  thought  produces  in  us.  Here,  of  course,  comes 
in  the  principle  of  anticipation  which  I  have  dis- 
cussed in  the  fourth  chapter.  The  savage,  like  the 
animal,  lives  chiefly  in  the  present,  and  does  not 
suffer  the  acute  pains  which  a  developed  imagina- 
tion enables  the  more  refined  organizations  to  repre- 
sent in  advance  to  the  mind. 


158  SOCIAL   SCIENCE  part  II 

But  most  important  of  all  is  the  growing  sense  of 
good  which  equally  characterizes  the  progress  of  in- 
telligence. Not  merely  does  man  more  and  more 
value  life  and  shrink  from  pain,  but  he  progressively 
enhances  his  estimate  of  enjoyment,  and  properly  so. 
This  is  to  him  the  only  good,  and  having  been  de- 
veloped as  a  correlate  of  function  it  is  safe  in  the 
long  run  to  trust  it  as  the  expression  also  of  univer- 
sal or  cosmical  good  —  or,  if  any  prefer,  of  divine 
good.  It  has  served  this  purpose  well  thus  far,  and 
upon  those  who  deny  it  this  function  rests  the  bur- 
den of  proof.  What  specially  concerns  the  sociolo- 
gist is  the  fact  that  with  the  development  of  the  race 
more  and  more  attention  has  been  devoted  to  attain- 
ing the  satisfactions  of  life,  until  these  become  in  the 
most  advanced  societies  the  real  if  not  the  avowed 
ends  of  existence. 

To  the  credit  of  mankind  be  it  said,  moreover, 
that  in  all  peoples  at  all  developed,  the  lower  satis- 
factions come  gradually  to  constitute  only  a  subordi- 
nate part  of  the  object  of  existence,  and  more  and 
more  effort  is  expended  in  attaining  those  satisfac- 
tions which,  though  not  essential  to  self-preservation 
or  race  continuance,  possess  for  all  elevated  natures 
a  far  higher  value.  An  ascending  series  of  these 
was  drawn  up  in  the  fifth  chapter,  and  their  increas- 
ing worthiness  is  unaffected  by  the  proof  there  pre- 
sented that  the  amount  of  satisfaction  obtained  is 
greater  at  each  step  as  we  rise  in  the  scale.  It  is, 
moreover,    remarkable   that   this   series,   arrived   at 


CHAP.  VII  THE  SOCIAL  FORCES  1 59 

from  the  strictly  psychological  point  of  view  as 
an  attempt  to  analyze  the  subjective  qualities  of 
the  mind,  should  harmonize  so  closely  with  the  clas- 
sification which  the  sociologist  must  make  of  the 
social  forces. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE   MECHANICS  OF   SOCIETY  i 

Prior  to  the  eighteenth  century,  when  mathe- 
matics was  almost  the  only  science  known,  it  was 
customary  to  treat  all  subjects  under  the  mathe- 
matical form.  Dr.  Henry  More,  in  an  elaborate 
work,  demonstrated  the  immortality  of  the  soul  by 
a  series  of  geometrical  propositions  and  notations, 
and,  as  is  well  known,  Spinoza's  Ethics  consists  of 
an  array  of  Euclidean  theorems,  corollaries,  and 
scholia.  In  those  days  it  was  supposed  that  if  an 
argument  on  any  subject  whatever  could  be  reduced 
to  a  perfect  logical  or  geometrical  form  and  con- 
tained no  violation  of  the  well-learned  rules  of 
reasoning,  its  several  propositions  were  apodictically 
established. 

In  modern  times  all  this  is  regarded  as  mere 
pedantry,  and  any  attempt  to  apply  mathematics  to 
the  complex  phenomena  of  life,  mind,  and  society  is 
looked  upon  with  suspicion.  While  all  may  admit 
that  the  test  of  exactness  of  any  science  is  the  degree 
to  which  its  laws  can  be  subjected  to  mathematical 

1  American  Journal  of  Sociology,  Vol.  II.,  No.  2,  Chicago,  Sep- 
tember, 1896,  pp.  234-254. 

i6o 


CHAP.  VIII  THE  MECHANICS   OF  SOCIETY  l6l 

rules,  it  is  generally  denied  that  the  laws  of  biology, 
psychology,  and  sociology  can  be  thus  subjected. 

While  I  am  one  of  those  who  have  emphasized  this 
truth,  and  justly  condemned  the  ambitious  propensity 
to  give  to  such  complex  phenomena  a  greater  pre- 
cision than  they  possess,  I  have  never  denied  that 
the  goal  toward  which  even  the  highest  of  them 
must  ever  tend  is  just  that  perfected  stage  at  which 
their  laws  may  be  mathematically  formulated.  More- 
over, these  laws  are  capable  of  being  roughly  classi- 
fied in  this  respect,  and  while  some  of  them  may  lie 
beyond  all  hope  of  such  a  formulation,  others  may 
have  nearly  reached  the  point  at  which  it  is  possible. 

The  basis  of  this  classification  is  the  generality  of 
the  laws  themselves,  and  it  is  found  that  only  the 
most  general  of  them  all  are  susceptible  of  any  such 
treatment.  The  founder  of  sociology,  long  before 
he  had  proposed  that  name  for  the  science,  gave  it 
the  name  of  "  Social  Physics,"  which  showed  that  he 
perceived  an  analogy  between  social  phenomena  and 
physical  phenomena,  and  so  far  as  his  treatment  of 
the  subject  is  concerned,  he  might  as  well  have  called 
it  social  mechanics,  for  he  at  once  subdivided  the 
phenomena  into  static  and  dynamic,  terms  borrowed 
from  the  science  of  mechanics,  a  branch  of  pure 
mathematics,  and  being  a  mathematician  himself,  he 
must  have  known  what  the  terms  meant.  All  future 
studies  have  tended  to  confirm  the  justness  and  ap- 
propriateness of  this  classification.  It  is,  however, 
only  in  their  most  general  aspects  that  social  phe- 


1 62  SOCIAL  SCIENCE  part  ii 

nomena  are  capable  of  being  thus  treated  in  the 
present  state  of  the  science,  and  it  is  to  such  general 
aspects  that  I  propose  to  confine  myself. 

The  word  science  has  been  variously  defined. 
Etymologically  it  signifies,  of  course,  simply  know- 
ledge. But  it  is  admitted  that  there  may  be  know- 
ledge that  is  not  science,  and  the  most  common 
definition  of  science  is  "  methodized  knowledge. " 
I  prefer  a  somewhat  different  form  of  expression, 
which  may  not  after  all  differ  from  this  in  any  fun- 
damental respect.  I  believe  that  science  is  properly 
confined  to  an  acquaintance  with  the  laws  of  phe- 
nomena, using  that  expression  in  the  broadest  sense. 
All  phenomena  take  place  according  to  invariable 
laws  whose  manifestations  are  numerous  and  mani- 
fold. A  mere  knowledge  of  these  manifestations  is 
not  science.  Knowledge  only  becomes  scientific 
when  the  uniform  principle  becomes  known  which 
will  explain  all  the  manifestations.  This  principle 
is  the  law. 

But  we  can  go  a  step  farther  back.  A  law  is  only 
a  generalization  from  facts,  z.e.,  from  phenomena, 
but  these  do  not  take  place  without  a  cause.  The 
uniformity  which  makes  such  a  generalization  possi- 
ble is  in  the  cause.  But  a  cause  can  be  nothing  else 
than  a  force.  This  force  acts  upon  the  material  basis 
of  phenomena  and  renders  it  ap-parent.  As  all  force 
is  persistent,  the  phenomena  it  causes  will  necessarily 
be  uniform  under  the  same  conditions,  and  will  change 
in  the  same  way  under  like  changes  in  the  conditions. 


CHAP,  viii  THE  MECHANICS   OF  SOCIETY  163 

As  an  abstract  proposition  all  force  is  one,  but 
there  are  a  great  many  fields  of  phenomena  due  to 
as  many  different  general  conditions  under  which 
the  universal  force  acts.  It  has  been  the  custom  to 
speak  of  the  action  of  force  under  such  different  con- 
ditions as  the  action  of  so  many  different  forces. 
This  is  at  least  convenient,  and  so  long  as  the  law 
of  the  correlation  of  forces  is  recognized  it  can  lead 
to  no  error. 

Now,  it  follows  from  this  that  every  true  science 
must  be  a  domain  of  force  ;  that  each  science  must 
preside  over  some  one  of  these  various  forces,  and 
that  any  field  of  knowledge  which  has  not  been 
brought  under  the  operation  of  some  natural  force 
is  not  yet  a  science  in  the  proper  sense  of  that  word. 
The  mere  accumulation  of  facts  does  not  constitute 
a  science,  but  a  successful  classification  of  the  facts 
recognizes  the  law  underlying  them  and  is,  in  so  far, 
scientific.  In  fact,  classification  is  always  the  initial 
step  in  the  establishment  of  a  science,  and  the  more 
recondite  workings  of  the  force  over  which  it  pre- 
sides are  discovered  later.  We  have  only  to  look 
over  the  history  of  the  several  recognized  sciences 
to  see  ample  illustrations  of  these  principles,  and  I 
cannot  now  stop  to  undertake  an  enumeration  of 
them. 

If,  therefore,  sociology  is  a  science,  it  must  agree 
with  all  others  in  this  respect,  and  all  knowledge 
that  is  not  systematized  according  to  this  principle 
must  be  ruled  out  of  the  science  of  society.     I  have 


1 64  SOCIAL  SCIENCE  part  ii 

always  maintained  that  sociology  does  constitute  a 
science,  capable  of  being  submitted  to  this  test,  and 
if  I  have  contributed  anything  to  that  science,  it  has 
been  in  the  direction  of  pointing  out  the  nature  of 
the  social  forces  and  the  mode  of  their  activity.  I 
propose  briefly  to  recapitulate  the  general  results 
which  I  claim  to  have  reached  in  this  field  of 
research. 

In  the  first  place,  the  social  forces  are  psychic. 
They  have  their  seat  in  the  mental  constitution  of 
the  individual  components  of  society.  But  here  it 
is  necessary  to  understand  what  the  mind  includes. 
The  popular  conception  of  mind  is  far  too  narrow. 
It  embraces  only  the  thinking  faculty,  or  at  most, 
that  and  the  special  senses.  Now,  suppose  we  try 
to  define  the  several  great  groups  of  phenomena  that 
are  constantly  appealing  to  us  in  the  ascending  order 
of  their  complexity,  beginning  with  that  of  gravita- 
tion and  rising  through  the  radiant  group  of  heat, 
light,  electricity,  etc.,  and  the  group  of  elective 
chemical  affinities,  to  the  vital  group,  including 
everything  that  relates  to  life  but  does  not  relate 
to  mind  ;  and  then  pass  directly  to  the  senses  and 
the  intellect.  A  glance  is  sufficient  to  show  that  a 
great  group  has  been  omitted.  This  lies  between 
the  vital  group  and  the  intellectual  group.  It  con- 
stitutes the  entire  domain  of  feeling.  This  domain 
is  distinct  from  the  senses  in  the  popular  usage,  for 
these  do  not  necessarily  involve  conscious  feeling  at 
all.     Those  of  sight  and  hearing  are  feelingless,  and 


CHAP,  viii  THE  MECHANICS   OF  SOCIETY  1 65 

even  that  of  touch,  sometimes  called  the  sense  of 
feeling,  need  not  involve  feeling,  and  its  value  as  a 
sense,  i.e.,  as  a  means  of  furnishing  the  mind  with  a 
knowledge  of  the  nature  of  the  objects  touched,  is 
inversely  proportional  to  the  amount  of  feeling.  I 
call  this  indifferent  sensation  in  contradistinction  to 
feeling  proper,  which  I  call  intennve  sensation.  This 
latter  is  always  either  pleasure  or  pain  of  whatever 
degree,  and  it  would  be  easy  to  show  that  it  is  the 
primary  form  of  feeling,  and  that  the  indifferent 
form  is  secondary  and  of  far  later  origin.  In  fact, 
intensive  sensation  —  pleasure  and  pain  —  consti- 
tutes the  simplest  and  earliest  manifestation  of  the 
psychic  faculty.  This  great  field  of  phenomena  — 
the  domain  of  feeling  —  is  not  physical,  chemical,  or 
vital  ;  it  must  therefore  be  psychic  and  belong  to 
mind. 

We  thus  arrive  at  the  dual  nature  of  mind.  It 
has  a  great  primary  department  of  feeling  and  an 
equally  great  but  secondary  department  of  thought. 
The  former  I  have  called  the  affective  side  of  mind  ; 
the  latter  its  perceptive  side.  The  affective  depart- 
ment of  mind  has  formed  no  part  of  the  philosophy 
of  mind.  It  has  only  been  seriously  treated  under 
the  head  of  moral  philosophy,  and  thus  chiefly  for 
the  purpose  of  warning  against  the  power  of  the 
passions.  It  has  been  regarded  as  something  gross 
and  impure,  and  wholly  unworthy  of  a  place  in  any 
scheme  of  philosophy.  ^ 

1  James,  Principles  of  Psychology.,  II.,  9. 


1 66  SOCIAL   SCIENCE  part  ii 

But  in  quite  recent  times,  under  the  stimulus  of 
modern  ideas  of  biology,  the  conception  of  the  bio- 
logical origin  of  mind  has  begun  to  work  a  change 
in  the  prevailing  habit  of  thought  on  the  subject, 
and  psychologists  are  coming  to  recognize  the  feel- 
ings as  a  department  of  psychology.  In  sociology 
the  least  reflection  reveals  the  immense  importance 
of  this  department.  Indeed,  it  is  found  to  constitute 
the  true  foundation  upon  whicli  that  science  must  be 
built,  so  that  it  may  be  said  that  "  the  stone  that  the 
builders  refused  is  become  the  head  stone  of  the 
corner."  The  secret  of  all  this  is  that  it  is  in 
the  affective  side  of  mind  that  the  forces  of  society 
are  found  to  lie.  Feeling  is  a  force.  It  is  the  only 
psychic  force,  and  is  at  the  same  time  the  funda- 
mental social  force. 

The  particular  form  under  which  feeling  manifests 
itself  as  a  force  is  desire,  and  the  social  forces  consist 
in  human  desires.  They  are  true  natural  forces  and 
obey  all  of  the  Ne\vi:onian  laws  of  motion.  They 
are  either  negative  —  desire  to  escape  pain  —  or 
positive  —  desire  to  secure  pleasure.  In  either  case 
they  impel  the  individual  to  action.  A  convenient 
and  highly  expressive  synonym  for  desire  in  its 
widest  sense  is  will,  but  the  word  must  then  be 
used  in  the  philosophic  sense  of  motive,  and  not  in 
the  popular  sense  of  choice.  Schopenhauer  based 
his  entire  philosoph}'-  on  this  conception,  and  by 
projecting  the  will  into  the  inanimate  world  he 
showed  in  the  clearest  manner  the  true  nature  of 


CHAP.  VIII  THE  MECHANICS   OF  SOCIETY  1 6/ 

will  as  a  simple  mode  of  manifestation  of  the  uni- 
versal force.  In  identifying  all  forces  with  will  he 
simply  demonstrated  that  the  human  will  is  a  force. 
From  an  economic  point  of  view  we  may  identify  it 
with  want^  and  contemplate  the  combined  wants  of 
mankind  as  constituting  the  social  forces. 

This  conception  is  susceptible  of  great  expansion. 
It  really  embraces  the  whole  domain  of  feeling  in 
the  intensive  sense,  ^.e.,  as  having  to  do  with  pleas- 
ure or  pain.  All  instincts,  affections,  and  emotions 
range  themselves  under  it.  All  the  "passions  of 
the  soul,"  of  which  Descartes  treated,  all  loves  and 
hates,  fears  and  hopes,  yearnings,  longings,  ambi- 
tions, aspirations,  and  a  great  variety  of  other 
forms  of  the  one  principle  belong  to  it.^  The  cen- 
tral idea  common  to  them  all  is  embodied  in  the  two 
words  impulse  and  motive,  and  these  terms  sufficiently 
imply  the  indwelling  force  of  the  will.  It  is  that 
which  impels  and  that  which  moves.  It  is  the  7iisus 
of  nature  transferred  from  the  physical  to  the  psy- 
chic world.  It  is  force  and  motion  ensouled.  It  is 
the  true  soul. 

From  the  standpoint  of  social  mechanics  this  em- 
bodiment of  psychic  and  social  energy  becomes  tlie 
dynamic  agent.  The  word  dynamic  primarily  and 
etymologically  relates  to  force,  but  usage  has  sanc- 
tioned its  extension  to  include  that  which  force  nor- 
mally accomplislies,    viz.,   motion,  cliange.      In  tlie 

1  Some  attempt  at  an  cnuinoratioii  of  those  appetitive  attributes 
may  be  found  in  The  I'sychic  F(tct(jrs  of  (Jinilization,  pp.  53,  CI. 


1 68  SOCIAL   SCIENCE  part  ll 

expression  dynamic  agent,  both  the  narrower  and 
the  broader  conceptions  are  involved,  but  in  most 
of  the  other  applications  of  the  word  dynamic  it  is 
mainly  restricted  to  the  narrower  sense,  and  may  be 
defined  as  :  producing  movement  and  change  as  the 
result  of  force.  It  is  thus  clearly  distinguished  in 
its  scope  from  the  term  kinetic,  employed  in  modern 
physics,  which  relates  to  motion  only,  without  con- 
noting force.  The  use  of  the  term  dynamics  in  the 
sense  here  indicated  was  first  made  in  mechanics,  and 
constitutes  a  department  of  that  science  in  contra- 
distinction to  statics,  in  which  the  forces  are  con- 
ceived as  in  equilibrium,  so  that  no  movement 
results.  The  next  science  in  which  a  dynamic  de- 
partment was  recognized  was  geology,  and  latterly 
the  term  is  being  applied  to  other  sciences.  From 
the  principles  with  which  we  set  out  it  is  clear  that 
every  true  science  must  have  both  a  dynamic  and  a 
static  department.  This  has  been  sparingly  recog- 
nized in  biology,  and  distinctly  so  in  economics  by 
Dr.  Patten,  and  in  sociology  by  Comte.^ 

In  treating  of  the  mechanics  of  society,  therefore, 
it  is  of  the  utmost  importance  to  understand  what 
constitutes  social  statics  and  what  social  dynamics, 
and  how  these  two  primary  departments  are  to  be 
marked  off,  distinguished,  and  recognized.  First  of 
all,  it  must  be  insisted  that  the  terms  are  not  used 
merely  as  smooth  expressions  that  have  a  scientific 
sound,  or  as  remote  analogies  to  those  of  exact  sci- 
1  Not  by  Spencer,  notwithstanding  his  work  on  "  Social  Statics." 


CHAP.  VIII  THE  MECHANICS   OF  SOCIETY  169 

ence,  but  for  what  they  actually  mean,  and  in  pre- 
cisely the  same  sense  that  they  have  in  pure 
mechanics  or  in  solar  astronomy.  By  this  is  not 
meant  that  the  phenomena  of  society  are  capable 
of  reduction  to  exact  mathematical  tests  in  any 
such  degree  as  can  be  done  in  astronomy  and  phys- 
ics, but  merely,  as  already  pointed  out,  that  the 
highest  generalizations  in  sociology  are  subject  to 
theoretical  treatment  as  exact  as  the  observed  phe- 
nomena of  the  planets  or  of  falling  bodies.  It  may 
be  regarded  as  a  sort  of  'pure  sociology,  and  it  cer- 
tainly has  a  far  better  sanction  than  either  the 
"  pure  morals  "  of  Kant  or  the  "  absolute  ethics  "  of 
Spencer. 

Beginning,  then,  with  social  statics,  it  must  be 
defined  as:  social  forces  in  equilibrium.  We  must 
then  seek  for  cases  in  which  social  forces  are  in  a 
state  of  equilibrium,  or  approximately  so;  for  in  so 
complex  a  field  as  society  nothing  absolute  is  to  be 
expected  when  actual  phenomena  are  under  investi- 
gation. A  moment's  inspection  shows,  that  the  social 
forces  do  not  always  and  universally  result  in  move- 
ment, that  they  conflict  and  collide  with  one  another, 
that  they  choke  one  another,  and  are  constantly  tend- 
ing to  bring  about  a  cessation  of  motion,  i.e.,  they 
tend  towards  the  state  of  equilibrium.  The  larger 
masses  (social  groups)  are  first  brought  to  rest,  but 
within  these  masses  there  goes  on  a  sort  of  molecular 
activity  by  which  free  paths  are  opened  for  the  per- 
formance of  minor  operations.      The  general  result 


170  SOCIAL   SCIENCE  part  ll 

is  what  may  be  called  a  social  structure.  In  a  wider 
sense  these  social  structures  may  be  called  institu- 
tions. As  examples  of  social  structures  proper  may 
bo  mentioned  the  family,  the  clan,  the  tribe,  the 
state,  the  church,  and  each  and  all  of  the  innumer- 
able voluntary  associations  of  society.  As  examples 
of  institutions  may  be  instanced  marriage,  govern- 
ment, language,  customs,  ethical  and  conventional 
codes,  religion,  art,  and  even  literature  and  science. 

Society  itself,  which  includes  all  the  structures 
and  institutions  that  may  exist  at  any  given  time, 
together  with  a  certain  vague  but  general  psychic 
integration,  may  be  regarded  as  a  great  structure  in 
which  the  social  forces  have  to  a  certain  extent  been 
brought  into  a  state  of  equilibrium.  It  is  only  the 
most  general  aspects  of  the  will  that  are  thus  equili- 
brated, and  within  this  great  social  structure  there 
are  others  which  in  advanced  societies  may  be 
classified  into  a  sort  of  subordinate  hierarchy  of 
structures,  along  with  many  that  are  more  or  less 
coordinate. 

In  general  it  may  be  said  that  society  as  a  whole, 
including  all  its  structures  and  institutions,  both 
general  and  special,  constitutes  a  mechanism.  The 
structures  are  not  chaotic  and  haphazard,  but  sym- 
metrical and  systematic.  They  conform  to  the 
universal  law  of  evolution  which  creates  the  spheres 
of  space  and  the  adapted  forms  of  organic  life. 
Although  all  this  is  believed  to  go  on  spontaneously 
and  to  be  the  normal  result  of  purely  genetic  causes, 


CHAP.  VIII  THE  MECHANICS   OF  SOCIETY  I /I 

in  the  great  poverty  of  language  to  express  this 
process,  it  is  ahnost  necessary  to  resort  to  the  lan- 
guage of  teleology,  which  will  convey  no  false  impli- 
cations to  tlie  well-infonned.  We  may  therefore  say 
that  society  constitutes  a  mechanism  for  the  pro- 
duction of  results.  Every  social  structure  or  insti- 
tution exists  for  a  purpose.  It  is  necessary  to  guard 
against  the  mistake  of  confounding  social  statics 
with  social  stagnation.  The  social  mechanism,  taken 
as  a  whole,  constitutes  the  social  order,  and  social 
statics  is  simply  the  science  of  social  order. 

To  regard  social  structures  as  mechanisms  is  a 
luminous  point  of  view  for  the  treatment  of  social 
mechanics.  A  machine,  properly  understood,  is 
simply  a  device  for  reducing  the  forces  it  is  de- 
signed to  utilize  to  a  state  of  equilibrium.  Without 
the  machine  these  forces  would  run  to  waste  so  far 
as  the  user  of  the  machine  is  concerned.  The  ma- 
chine checks  their  natural  flow,  and  temporarily  at 
least  and  theoretically,  equilibrates  them.  In  otlier 
words,  the  energy  of  nature  is  stored  by  the  machine 
for  the  purpose  of  being  utilized  to  far  greater  ad- 
vantage and  at  the  will  of  the  user.  This  is  clearly 
seen  in  the  principle  of  the  valve,  of  the  pendulum, 
etc.  It  is  really  one  principle  and  underlies  the 
working  of  every  meclianism.  Ikit  tlie  result  is  not 
a  loss  but  a  gain  ;  not  a  diminution  but  an  immense 
increase  of  tlie  product  of  these  forces.  Sucli 
mechanisms  are  of  course  the  work  of  intelligent 
design  on  tlie  part  of  man,  but  the  same  is  true  of 


172  SOCIAL  SCIENCE  part  ii 

the  purely  genetic  mechanisms  of  natural  evolution. 
A  plant  or  an  animal  is  a  mechanism  in  this  sense. 
It  is  an  organic  structure  and  represents  a  large 
amount  of  stored  energy.  It  is  a  device  for  bring- 
ing a  certain  class  of  forces  into  equilibrium  in  order 
to  increase  the  amount  of  work  that  can  be  accom- 
plished with  the  same  expenditure  of  energy.  The 
social  structures  rest  on  the  same  principle.  Man 
accomplishes  more  in  society  than  out  of  it.  The 
various  organized  groups  produce  more  than  the 
same  individuals  could  produce  if  unorganized. 
Every  institution  increases  the  power  of  society  to 
do  work. 

The  work  which  any  mechanism,  whether  physical, 
organic,  or  social,  normally  performs  constitutes  its 
function.  If  it  is  that  which  the  mechanism  was 
intended  or  adapted  to  do,  it  belongs  to  this  class. 
The  function  of  a  cotton-mill  is  to  make  cotton 
goods,  that  of  a  grist-mill  to  make  flour,  etc.  The 
function  of  a  leaf  is  to  transpire,  that  of  an  anther 
to  fertilize,  that  of  a  pistil  to  develop  seed.  In 
animals  the  function  of  legs  is  to  run,  of  wings  to 
fly,  of  jaws  to  bite,  of  the  stomach  to  digest.  The 
function  of  an  entire  individual  organism  may  be 
said  to  be  that  of  protecting,  nourishing,  and  pre- 
serving itself.  That  of  a  sexual  pair  or  group  is 
to  reproduce  its  kind  and  continue  the  race.  Rising 
to  social  structures  we  find  that  each  has  likewise  its 
function  —  the  particular  work  that  it  was  created 
to  perform.     Society  itself  is  organized  for  the  pro- 


CHAP,  viii  THE  MECHANICS   OF  SOCIETY  1 73 

tection  at  least  of  its  members.  Every  voluntary 
association  exists  for  a  particular  purpose  which  is 
its  function.  Government  and  the  state  exist  for 
the  good  of  society.  Its  protection  against  anti- 
social influences  is  their  function.  Religion  and 
the  church  exist  for  the  protection  of  society  from 
assumed  spiritual  beings  and  to  propitiate  them. 
From  a  highly  philosophical  point  of  view  they  have 
a  far  deeper  and  more  recondite  function,  viz.,  that 
of  antagonizing  the  tendency  to  violate  the  laws  of 
nature  and  jeopardize  the  existence  of  the  race.  The 
moral  and  conventional  codes  have  a  similar  function 
to  the  last  named.  Every  ethnic  custom  before  it 
passes  into  a  mere  "  survival "  has  a  purpose  or  func- 
tion and  performs  it.  Marriage  and  the  family  have 
the  supreme  function  of  continuing  the  race.  And 
so  on,  to  the  end  of  the  list. 

All  this  belongs  strictly  to  statical  sociology  and 
shows  the  immense  importance  of  the  social  order. 
But  we  may  go  a  step  farther.  Statics  is  not  limited 
merely  to  preservation  and  perpetuation.  It  also 
includes  growth  and  multiplication.  So  long  as  the 
same  normal  function  is  performed  by  the  same 
structure  tlie  plienomenon  is  statical,  although  the 
amount  of  the  product  be  increased  to  any  extent. 
If  more  spindles  of  the  same  kind  are  introduced 
into  a  factory  whereby  a  greater  quantity  of  goods 
is  manufactured,  the  function  of  its  machinery  is 
the  same.  If  by  reason  of  favorable  conditions  an 
organism  attains  an   unusual   growth  without   any 


174  SOCIAL  SCIENCE  part  n 

physical  modification  of  its  organs,  its  function  is 
still  normal.  If  a  species  of  plant  or  animal  suc- 
ceeds in  multipl3dng  its  individuals  without  any 
change  in  its  structure,  it  remains  the  same  species 
and  its  condition  is  technically  statical.  So  of  social 
structures  and  human  institutions,  no  matter  how 
great  the  results  of  their  functional  activity,  so  long 
as  they  remain  the  same  structures  and  the  same 
institutions,  their  study  belongs  to  social  statics. 

One  further  step  might  be  taken  before  the  strict 
bounds  of  statical  sociology  are  exceeded.  It  is  an 
important  fact  not  to  be  overlooked  that  structures 
are  at  first  crude  and  poorly  perform  their  functions, 
and  that  they  usually  continue  gradually  to  improve 
in  quality  and  attain  correspondingly  increased 
efficiency.  This,  too,  properly  belongs  to  statics, 
although  it  would  seem  to  involve  a  true  progress. 
Great  caution,  however,  is  required  in  this  study  of 
the  improvement  in  the  quality  of  types  of  structure. 
There  is  always  danger  of  overlooking  the  true 
character  of  structures.  They  are  almost  always 
composite  and  consist  of  what  may  be  called  sub- 
structures. The  character  of  the  function  performed 
by  the  compound  structure  will  depend  upon  the 
nature  of  its  component  structures.  Any  change  in 
the  nature  of  the  functions  is  liable  to  be  due  to 
essential  modifications  in  the  substructures,  which 
may  leave  the  compound  structure  to  all  appearances 
unchanged.  We  may,  therefore,  really  be  dealing 
with  a  dynamic  phenomenon  without  knowing  it. 


CHAP.  VIII  THE  MECHANICS   OF  SOCIETY  1 75 

If  this  error  be  carefully  guarded  against,  the  general 
proposition  that  the  perfection  of  identical  types  of 
structure  is  a  statical  plienomenon  remains  altogether 
valid,  and  we  have  as  tlie  broadest  truth  at  which 
we  have  thus  far  arrived  the  law  that  all  considera- 
tions of  structure  and  function  are  statical.  The 
investigation  of  structures  is  anatomy,  that  of  func- 
tions is  physiology,  and  in  all  sciences,  including 
sociology,  the  study  of  both  anatomy  and  physiology 
belongs  to  the  department  of  statics. 

We  turn  next  to  the  dynamic  aspect.  We  have 
seen  that  the  dynamic  agent  resides  in  the  feelings 
or  affective  department  of  mind,  and  it  exerts  its 
power  through  the  myriad  forms  of  appetitive  desire 
constituting  impulses,  or  impelling  forces,  and  mo- 
tives, or  moving  forces,  all  of  which  may  be  em- 
bodied under  the  general  term  will,  and  regarded 
as  making  up  the  true  soul  of  nature,  of  man,  and  of 
society.  I  have  endeavored  to  show  how  the  origi- 
nal and  unrestrained  operation  of  these  social  forces 
causes  them  to  collide  and  antagonize  one  another, 
to  check  and  control  tlie  movements  set  up,  and  ulti- 
mately to  result  in  definite  structures  consisting  of 
mechanisms,  for  the  equilibration  of  the  forces  and 
for  the  storage  of  the  social  energy.  I  have  further 
shown  that  through  such  social  structures  society  is 
enabled  to  systematize  the  work  of  the  social  forces 
and  accomplish  infinitely  more  than  could  have  been 
accomplished  without  them,  and  that  the  work  thus 
performed  constitutes  the  function  of  these  bocial 


1/6  SOCIAL  SCIENCE  part  ii 

structures.  All  this  belongs  to  the  department  of 
social  statics. 

But  there  is  always  a  limit  to  the  efficiency  of  any 
fixed  mechanism,  and  the  same  agencies  that  caused 
the  origination  and  development  of  these  structures, 
from  a  condition  in  which  none  existed,  continued  to 
act  in  the  same  direction,  which  could  now  be  none 
other  than  that  of  their  modification  and  transfor- 
mation into  different  and  more  efficient  structures. 
Both  the  origination  of  structures  out  of  the  struct- 
ureless condition  and  the  modification  of  the  type  of 
structures  already  formed  are  dynamic  phenomena. 
All  nature  is  plastic  and  this  incessant  pressure  of  the 
social  forces  for  the  betterment  of  types  of  structure 
has  resulted  in  an  almost  universal  but  exceedingly 
gradual  change  in  these  structures.  The  sociologist 
has  before  him  the  task  of  explaining  the  precise 
modus  operandi  of  these  changes.  The  fact  to  be 
contemplated  is  that  while  the  functional  effects  of 
almost  any  social  structure  are  greater  than  would 
be  the  effect  of  action  without  any  structure,  the 
effects  of  the  later  modified  structures  are  greater 
than  those  of  the  earlier  unmodified  ones,  and  the 
effect  of  the  progressive  transformation  of  human 
institutions  has  upon  the  whole  been  that  of  vastly 
increasing  their  social  efficiency.  The  same  effect 
has  attended  the  creation  of  new  institutions,  or  the 
multiplication  of  social  structures.  How  does  this 
take  place  ? 

We  saw  that  feeling  was  the  dynamic  agent,  and 


CHAP.  VIII  THE  MECHANICS   OF  SOCIETY  1 77 

therefore  it  is  here  certainly  that  we  must  look  for 
the  initial  impetus  of  all  dynamic  phenomena.  We 
also  saw  that  function  (nutrition,  reproduction, 
growth,  multiplication,  qualitative  perf ectionment)  is 
essentially  statical,  and  therefore  it  is  useless  to  look 
in  this  direction.  If,  however,  we  examine  the  phe- 
nomena of  function,  we  shall  see  that  they  are  all 
indirect  in  the  sense  of  not  following  immediately 
upon  the  act  that  produces  them  as  the  effect  of  an 
efficient  cause.  Such  an  act  is  not  a  cau%a  efficiens 
but  a  causa  sine  qua  non.  In  unintelligent  beings  it 
is  not  to  be  supposed  that  the  agents  that  perform 
the  acts  that  produce  functional  effects  have  any 
conception  of  the  nature  of  such  effects.  The  ani- 
mal does  not  eat  in  order  to  nourish  its  body,  but  to 
satisfy  hunger,  nor  does  it  perform  the  reproductive 
act  in  order  to  continue  its  race,  but  to  gratify  an 
instinct.  In  the  human  race,  so  far  as  man's  animal 
nature  is  concerned,  the  case  is  scarcely  different, 
and  the  most  rational  communities  would  forthwith 
disappear  but  for  the  impulses  that, indirectly  lead  to 
their  preservation.  These  functional  results  are  un- 
desired.  They  are  automatic.  The  will  does  not 
enter  into  their  production.  This  of  itself  explains 
their  statical  character.  Whatever  is  dynamic  must 
be  desired,  must  be  due  to  motive,  must  be  a  product 
of  will  power.  The  act  itself  of  satisfying  desire  is 
not  dynamic  and  if  no  effort  were  required,  there 
could  be  no  modification  of  structure.  It  is  pre- 
cisely because,  in  the  great  majority  of  cases,  effort 


178  SOCIAL  SCIENCE  part  ii 

is  necessary  that  transformation  takes  place.  From 
the  very  outset  there  have  been  obstacles  to  the 
satisfaction  of  desire,  to  remove  which  has  required 
greater  or  less  effort,  and  it  is  this  effort  that  has 
resulted  in  change. 

The  fact  to  be  noted  at  this  point  is  that  the  effect 
(removal  of  obstacles)  is  not,  like  the  functional 
effects  hitherto  considered,  indirect  and  remote,  but 
is  direct  and  immediate.  The  effort  is  a  true  effi- 
cient cause  and  the  effect  is  a  purely  natural  physical 
consequence  of  the  activity.  In  the  animal  world 
this  effect  is  mainly  subjective.  It  transforms  the 
organism,  modifies  organs,  multiplies  structures,  and 
creates  new  varieties,  species,  genera,  and  even  fami- 
lies and  classes.  In  man  it  does  this  too,  but  only 
to  a  limited  extent.  Here  the  principal  effects  are 
modifications  of  the  environment  to  adapt  it  to  the 
organs  and  faculties  that  he  already  possesses,  and  the 
degree  to  which  this  takes  place  is  proportional  to 
his  superiority  over  the  animal.  It  is  a  measure  of 
his  psychic  development,  and  especially  of  his  intel- 
lectual development.  The  removal  of  obstacles  to 
the  satisfaction  of  desire  is  the  underlying  cause  of 
all  social  progress.  It  transforms  the  social  environ- 
ment. It  modifies  existing  social  structures  and  origi- 
nates new  ones.  It  establishes  institutions.  It  resists 
the  repressing  tendencies  of  obsolescent  customs  and 
codes.  It  inaugurates  reforms,  which  are  at  bottom 
a  sort  of  social  exuviation.  If  old,  hardened  struct- 
ures prove  too  obdurate,  it  results  at  length  in  revo- 


CHAP.  VIII  THE  MECHANICS   OF  SOCIETY  1 79 

lution.  In  short,  it  constitutes  the  dynamic  process 
of  society. 

Social  progress  is  either  genetic  or  telic.  Progress 
below  the  human  plane  is  altogether  genetic  and  is 
called  development.  In  the  early  human  stages  it  is 
mainly  genetic,  but  begins  to  be  telic.  In  the  later 
stages  it  is  chiefly  telic.  The  transition  from  ge- 
netic to  telic  progress  is  wholly  due  and  exactly 
proportional  to  the  development  of  the  intellectual 
faculty.  The  intellectual  method  is  essentially  telic. 
The  intellect  was  developed  as  an  aid  to  the  will  for 
the  sole  purpose  of  securing  the  more  complete  satis- 
faction of  desire.  It  enables  man  to  obtain  by  an 
indirect  method  what  he  could  not  obtain  by  a  direct 
method.  Through  it  satisfactions  are  multiplied  and 
life  correspondingly  enriched. 

On  the  sul)human  plane  the  organic  advances  that 
nature  accomplishes  all  take  place  according  to  the 
genetic  principle.  They  constitute  what  is  com- 
monly understood  as  development  or  organic  evolu- 
tion. Certain  writers,  however,  liave  used  the  term 
genesis  in  this,  or  some  more  or  less  modified  sense. 
Wlien  we  take  in  liuman  evolution  it  becomes  evi- 
dent that  it  includes  something  more  tlian  is  involved 
in  tlie  evolution  of  irrational  beings.  The  moment 
we  rise  to  tlie  social  sphere  we  encounter  tlie  telic 
aspect  of  the  subject.  It  is  still  development  or 
evolution,  but  a  new  principle,  radically  different 
from  the  genetic,  has  now  been  introduced,  and  in 
all  the  higher  forms  of  social  progress  it  assumes  tlie 


l80  SOCIAL  SCIENCE  part  il 

leading  role.  Obviously,  therefore,  the  sociologist 
at  least  demands  a  terminology  that  shall  clearly 
indicate  this  important  distinction.  That  much  of 
social  progress  consists  of  simple  genesis  there  is  no 
doubt,  but  the  greater  part  of  human  evolution  is 
not  genesis.  A  term  is  wanted  to  describe  this 
major  part  of  social  evolution.  So  pressing  is  this 
need  that  I  feel  justified  in  striving  to  find  and 
introduce  such  a  term.  We  already  have  the  word 
teleology,  formerly  employed  exclusively  in  a  theo- 
logical sense,  but  which  I  long  ago  showed  to  be 
applicable  to  human  activity. ^  From  this  we  have 
the  adjective  teleological,  and  these  might  suffice  for 
the  purpose.  But  there  is  a  shorter  adjective  form 
telic^  which  is  preferable  to  teleological  and  possesses 
the  advantage  of  being  converted  into  the  name  of 
a  science,  telics,  as  proposed  by  Dr.  Small.  These 
two  words  may  be  conveniently  set  over  against 
genetic  and  genetics,  thus  greatly  facilitating  the 
expression  of  a  large  class  of  ideas  with  which  the 
social  philosopher  must  constantly  deal.  The  only 
serious  lack,  then,  is  a  similar  antithetical  term  to 
be  set  over  against  genesis^  to  denote  the  distinctively 
social  process  which  results  from  the  application  of 
the  indirect,  intellectual,  or  telic  method.  In  order 
to  supply  such  a  term  I  propose  to  revive  the  Greek 
form  telesis,^  giving  to  it  the  required  meaning. 

1  Dynamic  Sociology,  Vol.  I.,  pp.  28,  29. 

2  Gr.  xAecrts.    This  word  occurs  in  Drisler's  edition  of  Liddell 
and  Scott's  Greek  Lexicon,  published  by  Harper  and  Brothers,  in 


CHAP.  VIII  THE  MECHANICS   OF  SOCIETY  l8l 

There  are  two  kinds  of  telic  progress,  or  telesis, 
individual  and  collective.     The  former  is  the  princi- 

1861,  but  without  any  references  to  classic  authors  using  it.  It  has 
been  expunged  from  the  later  lexicons,  apparently  because  it  could 
not  be  found  as  a  common  noun  in  classic  Greek.  It  occurs  in 
Passow's  large  German-Greek  Lexicon,  where  Athenaeus,  a  post- 
classic  author,  is  credited  with  its  use.  It  seems,  however,  that 
wherever  it  occurs  in  the  Deipnosophistoi  it  is  only  as  a  proper  name. 
I  owe  this  information  to  Dr.  A.  J.  Huntington  of  Columbian  Uni- 
versity, and  Dr.  Thomas  D.  Seymour  of  Yale,  to  whom  I  appealed 
for  aid  in  the  matter,  and  of  whose  courtesy  I  am  glad  of  this 
opportunity  to  make  a  public  recognition. 

Dr.  Seymour  further  says:  "In  Stephanus'  Thesaurus  it  is 
quoted  as  cited  in  the  Anthologia  Palntina,  Appendix,  but  I  do 
not  find  it  there  ;  and  the  last  German  dictionary  maker  does  not 
seem  to  have  found  it,  for  he  gives  the  word,  but  puts  a  ?  after 
it,"  very  justly  adding:  "But  of  course  we  have  lost  so  much 
Greek  literature  that  no  one  can  say  that  some  old  Greek  may  not 
have  been  very  fond  of  rAeo-t! !"  If  used  at  all  in  classic  Greek 
it  was  doubtless  in  the  primary  sense  of  the  verb  reX^w,  to  complete, 
fulfil,  accomplish.  Still,  there  seems  no  good  reason  why  it  may 
not  take  on  not  only  all  the  meanings  of  that  verb  but  also  all 
those  of  the  noun,  tAos,  from  whicli  all  words  containing  this  root 
are  derived.  That  word  also  meant  jirimarily  an  end  accomplished, 
but  it  was  made  to  serve  in  a  great  number  of  cognate  significa- 
tions. Plato  used  it  in  the  sense  of  an  end  of  action  or  "final 
cause,"  and  from  this  have  sprung  all  the  derivatives  employed  by 
philosophers.  Teleology  was  not  used  by  the  Greeks,  but  we  find 
telic  (reXiKhs)  in  the  various  senses  of  tAos,  and  especially  used  by 
the  Stoics  in  an  ethical  sense,  final.  Medi;cval  and  modem  writers 
have  always  felt  justified  in  employing  any  of  the  derivatives  of 
T^Xos  in  the  Platonic  sense.  The  adjective  Te\ecrTiK6s  (fit  for  finish- 
ing) was  u.sed  in  religious  ceremonies  in  connection  with  tlie  office 
of  consecration  or  initiation,  where  it  may  be  rendered  initiative, 
or  mystical,  and  some  modern  mystics,  as  Cudworth,  have  revived 
it  in  that  sense.  An  Italian  writer,  Sig.  L.  Ferrarese,  in  a  volume 
entitled,  Saggio  di  una  nuova  classificazionc  delle  srienze,  1828, 
has  employed  the  word  telestics  in  a  sense  similar  to  tliat  in  wliich 
Dr.  Small  and  myself  have  used  telics.    The  latter  would  seem  to 


1 82  SOCIAL   SCIENCE  part  ii 

pal  kind  thus  far  employed.  The  latter  is  as  yet  so 
rare  as  to  be  almost  theoretical.  Society  itself  must 
be  looked  upon  as  mainly  unconscious.  Its  opera- 
tions are  the  result  of  the  combined  activities  of  its 
individual  members.  But  the  individual  is  conscious 
and  seeks  his  ends  by  the  aid  of  all  the  faculties  he 
possesses.  In  societies  at  all  advanced  the  individual 
units  possess  a  developed  intellectual  faculty  which 
they  employ  in  precisely  the  same  way  that  non-intel- 
lectual beings  employ  their  unaided  conative  facul- 
ties, only  with  vastly  greater  results.  This  mind 
power  acting  in  conjunction  with  the  will  power 
has  worked  the  same  class  of  transformations  that 
the  latter  accomplished  alone,  only  it  has  done  this 
on  a  much  larger  scale.  This  is  individual  telesis. 
It  constitutes  almost  the  only  social  progress  that 
has  thus  far  taken  place. 

The  intellect  is  not  itself  a  force,  it  is  only  a 
guide.  Just  as  the  desires  collectively  considered 
constitute  the  dynamic  agent,  z'.e.,  represent  the 
forces  to  be  dealt  with  in  the  mechanics  of  soci- 
ety, so  the  intellect  constitutes  the  directive  agent, 
and  has  for  its  function  to  guide  the  will  into  safe 
and  effective  channels  of  action.  As  the  object  is 
always  to  avoid  the  obstacles  to  the  satisfaction  of 
desire,  the  nature  of  this  guidance  must  be  to  find 

be  the  preferable  form.  I  am  indebted  for  the  reference  to  Fer- 
rarese's  work  to  Professor  George  E.  Vincent  of  The  University  of 
Chicago,  but  I  have  thus  far  been  unable  to  consult  the  virork  itself. 
I  am  not  aware  that  the  word  telesis  has  hitherto  been  revived  in 
any  modern  language. 


CHAP.  VIII  THE  MECHANICS   OF  SOCIETY  1 83 

paths,  as  it  were,  around  these  obstacles,  and  there- 
fore its  method  is  necessarily  indirect.  While  the 
psychologic  character  of  this  indirection  is  always 
the  same  it  appears  under  two  quite  different  forms. 
Which  of  these  forms  it  will  assume  depends  upon 
the  nature  of  the  obstacles  with  which  it  has  to  deal. 
The  two  principal  classes  into  which  the  objects  of 
the  impinging  environment  naturally  fall  are  the 
animate  and  the  inanimate,  or,  from  the  present 
point  of  view  they  may  better  be  called  the  sen- 
tient and  the  insentient.  Intellectual  indirection 
practised  on  sentient  creatures  is  always  in  the 
nature  of  deception.  The  advantage  of  the  agent 
is  the  opposite  of  that  of  the  sentient  object,  or  at 
least,  is  so  regarded  by  the  latter.  The  purpose  is 
to  circumvent  the  will  of  the  creature  that  consti- 
tutes the  obstacle.  Both  the  agent  and  the  victim 
may  be  either  animal  or  man.  Tliere  are  therefore 
four  possible  cases  :  (1)  animal  acting  on  animal  ; 
(2)  animal  acting  on  man  ;  (3)  man  acting  on  ani- 
mal ;  and  (4)  man  acting  on  man.  But  as  the 
victim  is  usually  inferior  intellectually  to  the  agent, 
the  second  case  is  rare  or  wanting,  and  in  the  first 
and  fourtli  there  is  generally  more  or  less  inequality 
Ijctween  the  exploiting  and  the  exploited  animal  or 
man.  From  the  sociological  point  of  view  oidy  the 
tliird  and  fourth  cases,  i.e..,  tliose  in  wliich  man  is  the 
agent,  are  involved.  I  surely  need  not  dwell  upon 
the  familiar  phenomena  of  the  exploitation  by  man 
both  of  the  animal  world  and  of  otlier  men. 


1 84  SOCIAL  SCIENCE  part  ii 

The  psychological  process  involved  has  received  a 
number  of  names  according  to  the  degree  of  intel- 
lectual power  called  forth  and  to  the  nature  of  the 
being  acted  upon,  but  there  is  not  the  slightest  differ- 
ence in  the  essential  quality  of  the  mental  act.  We 
may  distinguish  five  ascending  grades  of  this  act 
which  will  be  sufficient  for  the  present  purpose. 
These  are :  (1)  low  or  ordinary  cunning,  largely 
aided  in  animals  by  hereditary  instincts  ;  (2)  sa- 
gacity, such  as  is  manifested  by  the  most  intelli- 
gent domestic  animals,  and  also  by  the  less  developed 
human  beings ;  (3)  shrewdness,  best  exemplified  in 
business  transactions ;  (4)  strategy,  as  practised  in 
war ;  and  (5)  diplomacy,  characterizing  the  inter- 
course of  nations  with  one  another.  This  group  of 
intellectual  actions,  since  it  involves  more  or  less 
pain,  temporary  at  least,  in  the  feeling  beings  ex- 
ploited, represents  the  moral  aspect  of  the  principle 
under  discussion  and  may  be  called  moral  indirection. 

The  other  form  of  indirection,  viz.,  that  in  which 
the  intellect,  or  directive  agent  deals  with  inanimate 
or  insentient  objects  forming  obstacles  to  the  satis- 
faction of  desire,  appears  only  to  a  limited  degree  at 
any  stage  below  the  human.  At  least,  animals  exer- 
cise it  only  by  avoiding  such  obstacles,  and  never  by 
modifying  them.  But  man,  at  all  stages  at  which 
we  know  him,  and  doubtless  almost  from  the  begin- 
ning of  his  strictly  human  career,  has  always  and 
everywhere  sought  with  more  or  less  success  to 
modify  his  environment  and  to  adapt  it  more  com- 


CHAP,  viil  THE  MECHANICS   OF  SOCIETY  1 85 

pletely  to  his  needs.  The  principle  involved  is  in  all 
respects  the  same  as  that  by  which  he  has  thwarted 
the  will  of  animals  and  his  fellowmen.  In  a  certain 
sense  he  may  be  said  to  be  engaged  in  deceiving 
nature  or  exploiting  the  inorganic  world.  In  circum- 
venting the  will  of  animals  and  men  he  is  making 
use  of  all  the  knowledge  he  possesses  of  psychic 
forces.  In  modifying  the  inanimate  environment 
he  in  like  manner  makes  use  of  his  knowledge  of 
physical  forces.  It  is  the  same  faculty  employed 
in  the  same  way  only  on  another  class  of  objects. 
The  objects  being  inanimate  and  insentient  their 
manipulation  can  cause  no  pain,  and  therefore  no 
moral  considerations  are  involved.  Such  action  is 
innocent  or  unmoral  {amoral  or  anethicaV),  and  this 
form  of  indirection  may,  in  contradistinction  to  tlie 
moral  indirection  already  considered,  be  called  physi- 
cal iyidirection.  So,  too,  the  terms  that  are  applied 
to  the  various  grades  of  moral  indirection  —  cunning, 
sagacity,  shrewdness,  strategy,  diplomacy  —  are  not 
generally  applied  to  physical  indirection,  although 
there  are  many  etymological  usages  that  acutely 
suggest  the  identity  of  principle.  Cunning  is  often 
a  synonym  of  dexterity.  Art  has  the  two  deriv- 
atives, artful  and  artificial.  From  craft  comes 
crafty.  A  machination  becomes  a  machine.  The 
usual  generic  term  for  this  exercise  of  the  intel- 
lectual faculty  is  ingenuity.  An  ingenious  act  is 
an  invention.  The  ^jroduct  of  invention  is  art. 
Art    is  the   basis   of   culture   and   the   measure   of 


1 86  SOCIAL  SCIENCE  part  ii 

civilization.  All  art  is  thus  telic.  It  consists  in 
the  utilization  of  the  materials  and  forces  of  nature. 
As  supplemented  by  scientific  discovery  and  crystal- 
lized in  machinery,  it  constitutes  the  great  main- 
spring of  human  progress.  As  already  remarked, 
the  greater  part  of  all  that  has  been  thus  far  achieved 
has  been  the  work  of  strictly  egoistic  individual 
action.  The  vast  dynamic  results  have  been  the 
immediate  and  direct  effects  of  this  action  upon 
the  impinging  environment.  It  was  not  contem- 
plated by  the  individual,  and  so  far  as  he  is  con- 
cerned, it  was  incidental  and  unintended.  Still  it 
was  the  necessary  result  of  his  effort  to  satisfy 
desire. 

But,  as  has  also  been  hinted,  this  individual  telesis 
is  not  all  that  is  to  be  expected  from  the  human  race, 
endowed  as  it  is  with  a  highly  developed,  and  as  I 
believe,  Galton  and  Kidd  to  the  contrary  notwith- 
standing, still  rapidly  developing  intellectual  faculty. 
There  is  possible  another  step  resulting  in  a  social  or 
collective  telesis.  The  individual  has  grappled  with 
physical  forces  and  with  psychic  forces  and  has  laid 
them  tribute  to  his  will.  It  remains  for  society  in 
its  collective  capacity  to  grapple  with  the  social 
forces  and  to  render  them  in  like  manner  subject  to 
the  social  will.  But  to  do  this  society  must  wake  to 
consciousness  even  as  the  individual  has  done.  It 
must  develop  a  social  intellect  capable  of  exercising 
both  the  forms  of  indirection  described.  Society 
must  become  cunning,  shrewd,  strategic  and  diplo- 


CHAP.  VIII  THE  MECHANICS   OF  SOCIETY  1 87 

matic  in  compassing  its  own  interests,  but  especially 
it  must  acquire  ingenuity  and  inventiveness  in  deal- 
ing with  the  heterogeneous  mass  of  human  beings 
out  of  which  it  is  constituted,  all  of  whom,  however, 
are  actuated  in  every  movement  by  fixed  laws  that  it 
must  first  discover.  This  social  intellect  must  imitate 
in  all  respects  the  individual  intellect.  It  must  even 
be  egoistic,  since  its  own  interests  are  also  those  of 
its  individual  components,  and  therefore  there  is  no 
possibility  of  injury  except  through  failure  to  secure 
those  interests. 

But  these  propositions  are  too  general.  Let  us 
descend  to  something  more  specific.  The  general 
result  of  a  careful  study  of  the  alleged  "social 
organism "  results  in  the  conclusion  that  the  only 
true  basis  of  comparison  between  society  and  an  ani- 
mal organism  is  psychical.  In  this  comparison  it  is 
admitted  even  by  Spencer  that  the  true  social  homo- 
logue  of  the  animal  brain  is  to  be  found  in  human 
government.  The  social  intellect,  if  there  is  to  be 
one,  must  be  located  in  the  governing  body  of  so- 
ciety. That  such  a  thing  is  possible  is  obvious  to 
any  one  wlio  is  capable  of  divesting  himself  of  popu- 
lar prejudices. 

Of  course,  as  already  remarked,  this  is  largely 
theoretical  in  the  present  state  of  society,  but  noth- 
ing is  clearer  than  that  the  legislative  body  of  any 
given  state  may  exercise  intelligence.  It  is  sup- 
posed to  do  this  now,  and  only  misarchists  will  deny 
that  it  generally  does  so,  albeit  an  intelligence  of  a 


1 88  SOCIAL  SCIENCE  part  ii 

rather  low  order,  as  ought  to  be  expected  from  a 
body  that  does  not  pretend  to  do  more  than  rep- 
resent the  intelligence  of  its  constituents,  including 
the  lowest  as  well  as  the  highest,  i.e.,  a  body  rep- 
resenting approximately  the  average  social  intelli- 
gence. In  a  more  highly  developed  community  the 
degree  of  intelligence  applied  to  legislation  will 
necessarily  be  correspondingly  greater,  and,  in 
theory  at  least,  it  may  ultimately  reach  the  level 
attained  in  the  present  state  of  society  by  those  in- 
dividuals most  highly  developed  intellectually.  As 
soon  as  the  social  brain  shall  have  attained  this  stage 
of  development  it  will  begin  to  employ  the  indirect 
method  so  characteristic  of  the  individual.  It  will 
not  only  display  shrewdness  and  diplomacy,  but  it 
will  also  display  ingenuity.  A  science  of  govern- 
ment will  be  established,  based  on  an  investigation 
and  discovery  of  the  laws  controlling  social  phe- 
nomena. This,  as  in  the  physical  sciences,  will  con- 
stitute the  foundation  for  a  genuine  process  of  social 
invention.  The  laws  made  by  governments  are  to- 
tally different  from  the  laws  of  nature.  They  are 
simply  applications  of  them.  Properly  viewed  they 
are,  when  effective,  nothing  more  nor  less  than  so 
many  inventions  in  the  domain  of  the  social  forces. 
Legislation,  in  so  far  as  it  is  scientific,  is  invention. 
It  is  of  course  easy  to  see  how  widely  this  ideal 
legislation  differs  from  most  of  the  actual  legislation. 
In  the  latter  the  intellectual  method  of  indirection  is 
rarely  employed.     Most  laws  are  mandatory  or  pro- 


CHAP.  VIII  THE  MECHANICS   OF  SOCIETY  1 89 

hibitory,  z.e.,  only  brute  force  is  employed,  the  same 
as  that  by  which  irrational  creatures  strive  to  attain 
their  ends.  The  inventive  method  consists  in  devis- 
ing mechanical  adjustments  such  as  shall  direct  the 
forces  to  be  controlled  into  paths  foreseen  to  be  ad- 
vantageous. As  the  forces  are  indestructible  and 
ever  pressing,  and  as  they  will  necessarily  follow  the 
lines  of  least  resistance,  they  must  flow  along  these 
useful  paths  foreordained  by  human  ingenuity.  Man 
would  never  have  established  art  by  attempting  to 
compel  physical  forces  to  act  this  way  or  that.  He 
not  only  abandons  brute  force  but  he  ceases  to  use 
his  own  force  at  all  and  applies  himself  to  leading, 
or,  as  it  were,  attracting  the  natural  forces  into  their 
prescribed  courses.  And  when  the  mechanics  of 
society  shall  have  been  made  in  like  manner  the 
prolonged  and  successful  study  of  the  intelligent 
legislator,  this  method  will  completely  supersede  the 
present  crude,  unscientific  and  largely  ineffective 
method,  and  the  results  for  society  will  compare 
with  those  now  attained  as  the  highest  industrial 
art  compares  with  the  crudest  empiricism.  I  have 
called  this  method  Attractive  Legislation,  the  fur- 
ther consideration  of  which  must  be  deferred  to  the 
final  chapter  of  this  work. 

We  thus  perceive  that  the  mechanics  of  society 
naturally  falls  under  the  two  general  groups  of  social 
statics  and  social  dynamics.  The  first  of  these  groups 
need  not  for  present  purposes  be  subdivided,  but  the 
second  primarily  dichotomizes  into  what,  for  the  sake 


1 90  SOCIAL  SCIENCE  part  ii 

of  uniform  terminology,  may  be  called  social  genetics 
and  social  telics;  furthermore,  this  last  in  turn  as- 
sumes the  two  forms  of  individual  telics  and  collec- 
tive telics.  These  are  the  several  scientific  aspects 
of  the  subject.  The  corresponding  processes  which 
it  is  the  purpose  of  these  branches  of  the  science  of 
social  dynamics  respectively  to  study  are  :  (1)  social 
genesis ;  (2)  individual  telesis ;  and  (3)  collective 
telesis. 

The  entire  scheme  of  the  Mechanics  of  Society 
may  therefore  be  formulated  as  follows :  — 

Social  Mechanics,  treating  of  the  Social  Forces. 
Social  Statics,  treating  of  Social  Order. 
Social  Dynamics,  treating  of  Social  Progress. 
Social  Genetics,  treating  of  Social  Genesis. 
Social  Telics,  treating  of  Social  Telesis. 
Individual  Telics,  treating  of  Individual  Telesis. 
Collective  Telics,  treating  of  Collective  Telesis. 


CHAPTER   IX 

THE  PURPOSE   or  SOCIOLOGY  i 

The  three  concluding  chapters  of  this  work  will 
treat  respectively  of  the  three  phases  of  social  dy- 
namics enumerated  in  the  tabular  scheme  placed  at 
the  end  of  the  last  chapter,  viz.,  (1)  "  Social  Gen- 
esis"; (2)  "Individual  Telesis";  and  (3)  "Collec- 
tive Telesis."  Before  passing,  however,  to  the  more 
detailed  examination  of  these  topics,  it  was  thought 
best  to  introduce  the  very  important  subject  of  the 
purpose,  need,  occasion,  or  raison  d'etre  of  sociology. 
The  object  of  this  is  not  to  formulate  an  answer  to 
those  who  deny  the  existence  of  a  social  science. 
To  such  no  answer  would  probably  be  satisfactory. 
But  it  is  becoming  more  and  more  apparent  that 
among  those  who  acknowledge  the  possibility  of  the 
science,  and  who  are  actually  contributing  to  its 
development,  there  are  two  fairly  distinct  schools, 
not  only  in  the  world  at  large,  but  even  in  America; 
and,  indeed,  they  have  already  become  as  clearly 
differentiated  in  this  country  as  they  are  abroad. 
While  none  of  tlie  adherents  of  either  of  tliese  schools 
have  definitely  formulated  any  of  the  doctrines  that 

1  American  Journal  of  Sociology,  Vol.  II.,  No.  3,  Chicago, 
November,  1890,  pp.  440-463. 

191 


192 


SOCIAL   SCIENCE  part  ii 


distinguish  them,  their  writings  differ  in  certain 
fundamental  respects  that  are  sufficient  to  warrant 
their  rough  classification  as  above  stated.  The  fun- 
damental difference  has  primarily  to  do  with  just 
this  question  as  to  the  utility,  and  especially  the 
object  or  purpose,  of  sociology. 

It  is  difficult  to  select  terms  that  will  clearly  indi- 
cate this  difference.  They  might  be  characterized 
respectively  as  the  static  and  the  dynamic  schools. 
The  objection  to  these  terms  is  that  both  recognize 
dynamic  phenomena,  although  one  of  them  devotes 
little  attention  to  it.  More  correctly  speaking,  it 
recognizes  social  movements,  but  pays  little  atten- 
tion to  tlie  forces  that  cause  these  movements.  One 
writer  has  expressly  objected  to  the  term  dynamic, 
and  proposed  to  substitute  kinetic,  as  not  connoting 
force.  There  is  no  objection  to  the  use  of  the  name 
dynamic  for  the  other  school,  as  its  distinguishing 
characteristic  is  the  emphasis  it  places  on  the  con- 
ception of  forces  in  society,  and  it  also  recognizes 
conscious  as  well  as  unconscious  social  forces.  The 
statico-kinetic  school  might  also  with  considerable 
propriety  be  called  the  Spencerian  school,  since  Mr. 
Spencer's  sociology  is  marked  by  substantially  the 
same  characteristics,  and  the  American  writers  are 
virtually  disciples  of  Spencer.  No  one  of  the 
dynamic  writers,  however,  would  be  willing  to  be 
called  Comtean,  because,  although  Comte  treated  of 
both  social  statics  and  social  dynamics,  and  clearly 
differentiated  them,  still  he  can  scarcely  be  said  to 


CHAP.  IX  THE  PURPOSE    OF  SOCIOLOGY  1 93 

have  recognized  social  forces,  and  certainly  never 
defined  their  nature. 

The  statico-kinetic  or  Spencerian  school  does  not 
think  the  time  has  come  to  attempt  to  indicate  what 
the  effect  of  social  science  is  likely  to  be.  It  treats 
it  simply  as  a  branch  of  any  one's  education,  as 
explaining  the  facts,  phenomena,  and  laws  of  a  cer- 
tain field  of  knowledge,  and  trusts  to  the  natural 
influence  that  all  knowledge  necessarily  has  in  sober- 
ing opinion  and  modifying  action.  In  a  word,  it 
regards  sociology  as  a  pure  science,  and  deprecates 
all  attempts  to  apjoly  its  principles.  At  least  it  im- 
pliedly denies  the  ability  of  sociologists,  either  as 
teachers  or  writers,  to  point  out  its  applications 
either  to  students  or  readers,  and  would  leave  this 
wholly  to  practical  men,  whether  in  the  business 
world  or  in  politics. 

The  dynamic  school,  on  the  contrary,  clearly  per- 
ceiving the  chaotic  condition  of  both  the  industrial 
and  the  political  world,  and  recognizing  that  most  of 
the  evils  of  society  result  from  a  lack  of  scientific 
knowledge  on  the  part  of  the  so-called  practical  men, 
claims  the  right  and  feels  the  obligation  to  accom- 
pany the  statement  of  facts  and  the  definition  of 
laws  and  principles  with  an  indication  of  their  sig- 
nificance and  their  necessary  bearing  upon  social 
affairs  and  movements.  It  is  only  occasionally  pos- 
sible to  apply  sociological  principles  to  the  current 
problems  of  the  day.  These  are  usually  only  special 
cases  of  some  large  class  that  comes  under  some 
o 


194  SOCIAL  SCIENCE  part  il 

broad  principle,  and  about  all  that  can  be  done  is  to 
make  the  application  of  the  principle  to  the  class. 
If  this  is  understood,  the  special  cases  will  take  care 
of  themselves.  There  is  therefore  very  little  danger 
that  the  teacher  of  sociology  will  take  sides  on  cur- 
rent questions  and  defend  this  or  that  public  policy. 
He  cares  little  for  such  questions,  because  he  sees 
that  if  the  underlying  principles  are  understood, 
they  will  settle  themselves.  But  if  it  chance  that 
public  questions  arise  that  are  broad  enough  to  come 
directly  under  any  sociological  law,  there  is  no  reason 
why  he  should  hesitate  in  such  cases,  any  more  than 
in  any  other,  to  make  the  application.  Still,  if  he 
finds  that  deep  students  of  sociology  differ  as  to  the 
application,  this  should  be  a  warning  to  him  to  re- 
frain from  hastily  deciding  what  the  principle  really 
teaches  in  the  particular  case.  The  sociologist  always 
sees  the  application  of  laws  to  current  questions. 
They  are  all  grouped  in  his  mind  under  the  laws, 
and  may  be  used  as  illustrations,  but  they  are  usually 
so  superficial  that  he  can  make  little  use  of  them. 
He  prefers  to  take  his  illustrations  from  past  history 
and  from  the  various  special  social  and  even  physical 
sciences  that  furnish  the  data  of  sociology. 

The  distinction  of  the  two  schools  as  pure  and 
applied  sociology,  therefore,  would  be  convenient  if 
it  were  not  that  the  dynamic  school  accepts  the  pure 
stage  as  fully  as  the  static  school.  The  real  differ- 
ence is  that  the  former  carries  the  science  farther 
than  the  latter.     From  a  merely  passive  science  it 


CHAP.  IX  THE  PURPOSE    OF  SOCIOLOGY  1 95 

pushes  it  forward  into  an  active  science.     It  renders 
it  constructive. 

In  addition  to  the  above  reasons  for  introducing 
into  this  volume  a  paper  on  the  purpose  of  sociology, 
there  is  a  personal  one  which  it  seems  necessary  to 
state  in  order  to  make  my  own  position  clear.  In 
Dynamic  Sociology  I  of  course  placed  myself  squarely 
upon  the  constructive  ground.  The  advanced  posi- 
tion there  taken  was  open  to  criticism,  as  I  expected 
it  to  be,  but  in  addition  to  adverse  criticism,  which 
I  desired  and  courted,  I  observed  some  tendency  to 
make  too  much  of  the  doctrines  I  advanced.  This 
was  especially  the  case  with  the  principle  of  conscious 
social  action.  I  had  repeatedly  stated  that  society 
thus  far  must  be  regarded  as  in  the  main  unconscious, 
and  therefore  the  whole  idea  of  social  action  for  the 
sake  of  improvement  was  an  ideal  which  simply  fol- 
lowed from  the  assumption  of  such  a  train  of  condi- 
tions as  are  described  in  Vol.  II.  of  that  work.  I  did 
not  wish  to  lay  too  great  stress  upon  it  as  a  present 
or  early  future  possibility.  When,  therefore,  in  an 
article  on  "  Static  and  Dynamic  Sociology,"  which 
appeared  in  the  Political  Science  Quarterly  for  June, 
1895,  I  sought  to  draw  a  clear  line  between  these 
two  kinds  of  sociology,  I  purposely  omitted  all  refer- 
ence to  what  I  now  call  collective  telesis,  because  the 
distinction  could  be  made  equally  clear  without  it, 
and  its  introduction  would  have  weakened  my  argu- 
ment in  tlie  minds  of  just  those  persons  to  whom  I 
desired  to  appeal. 


196  SOCIAL  SCIENCE  part  il 

To  this  omission  and  my  general  disinclination 
to  push  this  part  of  my  social  philosophy,  as  mani- 
fested in  other  popular  articles,  I  have  attributed  the 
impression  that  I  have  observed  among  contemporary 
sociological  writers  that  I  had  to  some  extent  aban- 
doned that  doctrine.  The  clearest  expression  of  this 
that  I  can  readily  refer  to  is  contained  in  Professor 
Vincent's  exhaustive  paper  on  the  "  Province  of 
Sociology "  that  appeared  in  the  American  Journal 
of  Sociology  for  January,  1896,  p.  487.  Under 
"  (c)  The  '  constructive '  theory,  or  the  projection  of 
social  tendencies  into  ideals  for  guidance,"  he  says : 
"Small  stands  for  this  as  one  of  the  functions  of 
sociology,  and  Ward  in  his  early  work  distinctly 
advanced  this  view.  Judged  by  his  recent  articles, 
the  latter  has  apparently  modified  his  position."  In 
1893,  or  ten  years  after  the  appearance  of  Dynamic 
Sociology,  this  doctrine  was  as  distinctly  reaffirmed 
as  in  the  "early  work."  Professor  Vincent  does 
not  refer  to  my  Psychic  Factors  of  Civilization  in 
which  (Part  III.)  this  was  done,  and  the  inference 
seems  plain  that  he  was  unacquainted  with  it. 

It  may  be  said  that  after  the  paper  on  the 
"  Mechanics  of  Society "  in  the  American  Journal 
of  Sociology  for  September,  1896,  this  explanation 
was  unnecessary.  It  certainly  was  rendered  so  by 
the  concluding  paper  of  the  series  (No.  12,  on 
"Collective  Telesis"),  but  it  can  have  done  n 
harm  to  disabuse  in  advance  the  minds  of  any 
who  may  think  that  I  have  abandoned  the  position 


CHAP.  IX  THE  PURPOSE    OF  SOCIOLOGY  197 

originally  taken,  however  little  sanguine  I  may  have 
been  and  still  am  of  rapid  progress  toward  such  an 
ideal. 

It  may  seem  absurd  to  ask  what  is  the  purpose  of 
any  science.  No  one  would  claim  that  the  purpose 
of  astronomy  is  to  assist  navigation,  or  that  the 
purpose  of  biology  is  to  facilitate  the  cultivation  of 
plants  and  the  domestication  of  animals.  Science 
is  supposed  to  be  pursued  for  its  own  sake,  to 
increase  the  sum  of  knowledge.  There  is  a  vague 
idea  that  it  is  somehow  a  good  thing  to  have  know- 
ledge increased,  while  poets  and  philosophers  have 
perceived  that  "knowledge  is  power,"  but  no  one 
has  pointed  out  specifically  in  what  way  knowledge 
operates  as  a  power.  A  general  comparison  of 
peoples  without  science  with  peoples  that  possess 
science  shows  that  science  must  have  something  to 
do  with  what  we  call  civilization,  and  yet  it  is 
insisted  that  science  is  not  to  be  pursued  for  any 
practical  purpose.  Indeed,  the  practical  view  of 
science  is  generally  condemned,  and  numerous  illus- 
trations are  adduced  of  the  most  important  practical 
results  flowing  from  studies  that  seemed  to  be  per- 
fectly useless.  These  cases  are  calculated  to  inspire 
faith  in  the  general  utility  of  all  knowledge  and 
have  thus  accomplished  great  good.  It  is  of  course 
clear  to  all  that  mathematics,  physics,  and  chemistry 
have  an  immediate  practical  value  in  the  affairs  of 
life,  but  most  of  the  other  sciences  —  geology,  botany, 
zoology,    ethnology,    psychology,  etc.  —  are   looked 


198  SOCIAL  SCIENCE  part  ll 

upon  mainly  in  the  light  of  culture,  like  history, 
literature,  fine  art,  etc.  Anatomy  and  physiology 
constitute  exceptions,  as  having  a  direct  bearing 
upon  health. 

In  general  it  may  be  said  that  as  long  as,  and  in 
proportion  as  nature  is  regarded  as  anthropocentric 
the  knowledge  of  nature  will  not  be  looked  upon  as 
of  any  special  practical  use  to  man.  The  truth  that 
is  gradually  taking  the  place  of  this  two-fold  error 
is  that  instead  of  nature  being  anthropocentric  and 
science  indifferent,  nature  is  indifferent  and  science 
is  anthropocentric.  It  is  true  that  every  step  in  the 
advance  of  knowledge  has  resulted  in  practical  benefit 
to  man,  morally  or  materially,  and  both  the  philo- 
sophic ken  and  the  popular  instinct  as  to  the  use- 
fulness of  knowledge  are  correct.  The  knowledge 
generally  understood  as  scientific  is  the  most  useful 
and  practical  of  all  kinds  of  knowledge.  Scientific 
knowledge  is  the  knowledge  of  nature,  z.e.,  of 
natural  things  and  natural  laws.  In  short  it  is  a 
knowledge  of  the  environment,  and  the  reason  why 
it  is  so  useful  is  because  it  is  his  relations  to  his 
environment  that  man  chiefly  needs  to  know. 

The  environment  is  not  wholly  objective,  although 
there  is  nothing  that  may  not  be  contemplated  objec- 
tively. The  subjective  environment  is  in  some  re- 
spects more  important  to  know  than  the  objective. 
Notwithstanding  the  old  Greek  maxim,  "  Know  thy- 
self," it  is  only  in  recent  times  that  any  adequate 
idea  has  been  gained  of  the  meaning  of  that  maxim, 


CHAP.  IX  THE  PURPOSE    OF  SOCIOLOGY  1 99 

and  although  Pope  said  that  "  the  proper  study  of 
mankind  is  man,"  still  it  is  only  since  man  began 
to  be  studied  as  a  social  being  and  as  a  being  subject 
to  laws  as  uniform  as  those  that  prevail  in  other 
departments  of  nature,  that  any  useful  knowledge 
has  been  acquired  relative  to  the  true  nature  of  man. 
Man  had  been  supposed  to  be  a  "  free  agent,"  which 
meant  that  there  were  no  laws  to  which  his  activities 
were  subject.  There  could  therefore  be  no  science 
of  man,  and  hence  no  science  of  society.  Many  still 
so  hold,  and  for  such  there  is  no  sociology.  But 
those  who  accept  a  science  of  sociology  as  resting 
like  other  sciences  on  uniform  and  determinable  laws 
are  able  to  see  immense  possibilities  in  this  science 
from  a  practical  point  of  view.  The  laws  of  nature 
have  always  proved  capable  of  being  turned  to  man's 
advantage  in  proportion  as  they  have  been  made 
known,  and  there  is  no  reason  to  suppose  that  those 
of  human  nature  and  of  society  will  form  an  excep- 
tion. But  it  is  admitted  that  they  are  more  complex 
and  difficult  to  understand,  and  therefore  sociology 
requires  more  study  than  any  other  science. 

There  are  two  ways  in  which  any  science  may  be 
studied,  the  speculative  and  the  practical,  but  the 
sciences  differ  among  themselves  with  respect  to 
the  extent  to  wliich  the  one  or  the  other  of  these 
methods  should  be  carried.  As  already  shown,  as- 
tronomy and  biology,  from  their  inherent  nature,  do 
not  readily  lend  themselves  to  the  practical  method, 
but  are  mainly  pursued  for  the  purpose  of  acquiring 


200  SOCIAL   SCIENCE  part  ii 

a  knowledge  of  these  great  fields  of  nature.  This 
is  so  specially  true  of  botany  and  zoology  that  on 
a  former  occasion  I  used  these  sciences  as  represent- 
ing that  method,  and  called  it  the  "natural  history 
method.  "1  In  the  natural  history  method  the  only 
purpose  is  to  learn  the  natural  history  of  the  organ- 
ism in  question.  This  method  is  the  one  chiefly 
employed  in  nearly  all  the  departments  of  anthro- 
pology, which  is  treated  as  a  branch  of  zoology  for 
the  study  of  the  human  organism.  Many  who  claim 
to  be  sociologists  are  accustomed  to  look  upon  human 
society  from  this  point  of  view,  and  their  sociology 
is  scarcely  anything  but  anthropology. 

The  science  formerly  called  political  economy,  but 
now  generally  known  as  economics,  has  had  a  some- 
what different  history.  Its  cultivators  from  the 
first  conceived  it  as  a  domain  of  law,  but  they  car- 
ried this  principle  too  far  and  only  recognized  ani- 
mal impulses  as  actuating  man  in  his  industrial 
relations.  These  are  so  comparatively  simple  that 
the  ruder  types  of  men  have  had  no  difficulty  in 
perceiving  these  laws  sufficiently  well  to  utilize  them 
in  the  domestication  of  animals.  This  was  done 
empirically,  and  what  science  there  is  on  the  subject 
has  been  of  late  development.  If  human  activities 
had  been  equally  simple,  the  political  economy  based 
on  them  would  have  been  almost  as  exact  as  solar 
astronomy.  What  actually  took  place,  expressed  in 
the  language  of  dynamic  sociology,  was  that  while 
1  Publications  of  the  Am.  Econ.  Assoc,  Vol.  VI.,  p.  102. 


CHAP.  IX  THE  PURPOSE    OF  SOCIOLOGY  201 

the  early  political  economists  recognized  the  dynamic 
agent  they  neglected  the  directive  agent  and  its  in- 
fluence in  causing  perturbations  in  human  activity. 
Or,  expressed  in  the  language  of  social  mechanics, 
as  set  forth  in  the  last  chapter,  they  recognized 
social  genesis  and  founded  a  science  of  social  genet- 
ics, but  they  failed  to  take  account  of  individual 
telesis  as  modifying  this  process.  That  which  has 
been  aptly  called  "  astronomical  economics,"  there- 
fore failed,  and  it  was  discovered  by  the  Newton  of 
biology  that  the  Malthusian  principle  was  a  funda- 
mental principle  of  biology.^  As  soon  as  attention 
began  to  be  directed  to  wide  classes  of  facts  it  was 
seen  that  this  law  required  to  be  modified  in  so 
many  respects  before  it  could  be  applied  to  man  as 
to  amount  almost  to  a  reversal  of  it.^  While  the 
philosophers  were  ignoring  one  half  of  mind  —  the 
feelings  —  the  economists  were  ignoring  the  other 
half  —  the  intellect  —  and  both  of  these  great  move- 
ments were  limping  along  in  this  fashion.  It  has 
remained  for  sociology,  whether  calling  itself  by  that 
name  or  not,  to  recognize  the  psychologic  basis  of 
human  activities  and  to  found  a  science  upon  all  the 
faculties  of  the  mind. 

The  fact  that  tlie  defective  political  economy  de- 
scribed necessarily  led  to  a  gloomy  view  of  human 
life,  gaining  for  it   Carlyle's  name  of  the  "  dismal 

1  See  Darwin's  Autobiofn"apliy  in  Life  and  Letters,  Vol.  I.,  p.  68. 

2  See  The  pHycliolo^'ic  Ha.sis  of  Social  Economics,  Pror.  A.  A. 
A.  S.,  Vol.  XLL,  pp.  301-321. 


202  SOCIAL   SCIENCE  part  ii 

science,"  has  given  birth  to  the  erroneous  impression 
that  the  early  writers  were  cold,  hard-hearted  men, 
who  looked  upon  the  laborer  as  simply  a  machine  to 
be  run  until  it  breaks  down,  and  who  had  no  hope 
that  the  conditions  they  described  could  ever  in  the 
nature  of  things  be  altered  or  improved.  The  fact 
is  that  those  writers  were  all  humane  and  enlightened 
men  with  warm  sympathies.  Adam  Smith  is  now 
ranked  among  the  founders  of  utilitarianism,  which 
is  an  essentially  melioristic  doctrine.  It  is  a  curious 
fact,  rarely  referred  to,  that  the  very  title  of  the 
great  work  of  Malthus,  which  is  regarded  as  the 
most  pessimistic  of  all  that  class  of  writings,  con- 
tains a  clear  declaration  of  his  humanitarian  purpose. 
Even  in  the  first  edition  the  title  reads :  An  Essay 
on  the  Principle  of  Population  as  it  affecU  the  future 
Improvement  of  Society.  The  first  seven  words  re- 
mained the  same  in  all  editions,  but  in  the  second 
edition  the  remainder  reads  :  or  a  review  of  its  past 
and  present  effects  on  human  happiness.  In  the 
seventh  edition  (I  have  not  been  able  to  consult 
intermediate  ones)  these  words  are  added  to  the 
last :  with  an  inquiry  into  our  prospects  respecting  the 
future  removal  or  mitigation  of  the  evils  which  it  oc- 
casions. 

This  clearly  shows  that  even  Malthus  wrote  for  a 
purpose,  and  that  a  humanitarian  one.  The  same 
might  be  proved  for  many  of  the  earlier  works  on 
political  economy.  A  modern  writer,  Mr.  William 
Cunningham,  makes  the  foUowing  frank  confession ; 


CHAP.  IX  THE  PURPOSE    OF  SOCIOLOGY  203 

Economic  science  is  wholly  practical,  it  has  no  raison 
d'etre  except  as  directing  conduct  towards  a  given  end: 
it  studies  the  means  leading  towards  that  end  not  merely 
for  the  sake  of  knowledge,  but  in  the  hope  of  guiding 
men  so  that  they  may  pursue  that  end  in  the  most  appro- 
priate way :  it  is  not  content  to  describe  the  principles 
that  have  actuated  human  conduct,  but  desires  to  look 
at  these  i)rinciples  in  the  light  of  after  events,  and  thus 
to  put  forward  the  means  that  are  best  adapted  for  attain- 
ing the  end  in  view.^ 

Is  there  any  good  reason  why  sociology  may  not 
have  a  jjurpose  as  well  as  economics?  The  char- 
acter which  chiefly  distinguishes  it  from  the  physical 
sciences,  viz.,  greater  complexity  of  the  phenomena 
to  be  studied,  scarcely  differs  in  these  two  sciences. 
I  am  myself  inclined  to  regard  Mr.  Cunningham's 
language  as  somewhat  too  strong.  I  should  say  that 
economics  should  be  studied  from  both  points  of 
view,  first  for  the  purpose  of  learning  the  laws  of 
industrial  activity,  and  secondly  with  a  view  to 
directing  conduct  to  a  given  end.  In  other  words, 
I  would  concede  to  that  science,  as  to  mathematics, 
physics,  and  chemistry,  both  a  pure  and  an  applied 
stage.  But  I  make  the  same  claim  and  no  more  for 
sociology.  That  science  should  also  be  studied  first 
for  the  sake  of  information  relating  to  the  laws  of 
human  association  and  cooperative  action,  and  finally 
for  the  purpose  of  determining  in  what  ways  and  to 

1  Politics  mid  Economics :  An  Essay  on  the  Nature  of  the  Prin- 
ciples of  I'olitical  Economy,  togetlier  with  a  Survey  of  Recent 
Legislation,  by  William  Cunningham,  London,  1885,  p.  12. 


204  SOCIAL  SCIENCE  PART  11 

what  extent  social  phenomena  may,  with  a  know- 
ledge of  their  laws,  be  modified  and  directed  towards 
social  ideals.  This  last  is  what  I  understand  by 
Dr.  Small's  "idealics."  The  supreme  purpose  is  the 
betterment  of  society.  The  knowledge  is  the  im- 
portant thing.  The  action  will  then  take  care  of 
itself.  But  an  important  part  of  the  knowledge  is 
that  action  is  its  object.  It  was  shown  in  the  last 
chapter  that  the  greater  part  of  the  action  of  civilized 
men  is  telle,  or  results  from  purpose  and  not  from 
mere  impulse.  The  study  of  sociology  is  calculated 
to  enlighten  the  individual  purposes  of  men  and  har- 
monize them  with  the  good  of  society.  It  will  tend 
to  unify  action,  to  combine  the  innumerable  streams 
of  individual  effort  and  pour  their  contents  into  one 
great  river  of  social  welfare.  Individual  telesis  thus 
verges  into  collective  telesis.  In  a  democracy  every 
citizen  is  a  legislator  and  government  simply  be- 
comes the  exponent  of  the  social  will  and  purpose. 
This  becomes  more  and  more  true  as  the  constituent 
members  of  society  see  things  in  their  true  light. 
Society  can  only  act  upon  those  things  with  regard 
to  which  there  is  a  substantial  unity  of  opinion. 
There  is  no  more  false  dogma  than  that  it  is  neces- 
sary for  individuals  to  work  at  cross  purposes.  So 
long  as  many  of  the  prevailing  notions  in  society  are 
false  divisions  and  dissensions  will  occur,  and  these, 
I  grant,  are  educating  in  the  school  of  experience. 
But  the  greater  part  of  them  are  unnecessary  and 
disappear  as  communities  become  enlightened.     The 


CHAP.  IX  THE  PURPOSE    OF  SOCIOLOGY  20 5 

purpose  of  sociology  is  to  enlighten  communities  and 
put  an  end  to  useless  and  expensive  dissensions.  It 
is  true  that,  as  the  simpler  questions  are  settled, 
higher  and  more  complicated  ones  will  arise  in 
society,  but  this  very  elevation  of  the  plane  of  pub- 
lic discussion  is  one  of  the  true  marks  of  social 
advance.  Those  who  regard  partisan  struggles  as 
salutary  to  the  intellectual  vigor  and  independence 
of  the  people  need  have  no  fear.  There  are  ques- 
tions and  questions.  What  the  sociologist  demands 
is  simply  that  every  question  capable  of  definitive 
settlement  be  put  out  of  the  public  arena,  and  that 
wrangling  about  anything  that  anybody  hnoivs  cease. 
There  will  still  remain  problems  that  the  wisest  can- 
not solve,  and  upon  these  men  will  divide  and  debate 
and  reflect  and  experiment  until  one  by  one  they, 
too,  reach  their  solution  and  give  way  to  still  subtler, 
more  delicate,  and  more  ennobling  subjects  of  dis- 
cussion and  emulation. 

But  if  the  purpose  of  sociology  is  the  betterment 
of  society,  it  becomes  necessary  to  inquire  what  con- 
stitutes social  betterment.  This  may  at  first  sound 
puerile,  because  everybody  is  supposed  to  know. 
But  let  any  one  undertake  to  formulate  it  and  he  will 
not  find  it  so  easy.  When  we  specify  civilization, 
enlightenment,  morality,  progress,  etc.,  as  the  cri- 
teria of  social  improvement,  we  only  multiply  the 
number  of  terms  requiring  definition.  There  is 
really  only  one  test  of  the  comparative  goodness, 
i.e.,  the  better  or  worse,  in  anything,  and  that  is 


206  SOCIAL  SCIENCE  part  il 

what  may  be  called  the  ethical  test,  viz.,  the  degree 
of  satisfaction  that  it  yields.  One  thing  is  better 
than  another  if  it  yields  a  greater  amount  of  satis- 
faction. It  comes  down  to  the  agreeable  and  the 
disagreeable  as  the  positive  and  negative  states. 
What  is  more  agreeable  is  better.  What  is  more 
disagreeable  is  worse.  The  agreeable  is  the  good. 
The  disagreeable  is  the  bad.  Looking  at  the  condi- 
tion of  society  as  a  whole  we  see  that  this  is  the  test 
of  utility  and  the  basis  of  economics.  The  positive 
social  state  is  the  "pleasure  economy"  of  Patten. 
The  "end  in  view"  of  Cunningham  is  the  "greatest 
happiness  "  of  Bentham.  Social  betterment  is  the 
passage  out  of  a  pain  economy  into  a  pleasure  econ- 
omy, or  from  an  economy  that  yields  only  the  satis- 
faction of  physical  needs  to  one  that  fills  out  the 
higher  spiritual  aspirations.  Social  progress  is  that 
which  results  in  social  betterment  as  thus  defined, 
and  all  the  other  supposed  ends  are  either  simply 
means  to  this  end  or  they  are  names  for  the  various 
aspects  of  it. 

Now,  "social  evolution"  is  the  term  commonly 
employed  for  the  general  spontaneous  movement  in 
the  direction  above  indicated.  There  may  be  races 
that  have  degenerated.  Empires  have  declined  and 
fallen.  But  new  races  and  new  empires  in  other 
parts  of  the  world,  usually  recruited  from  the  elite 
of  the  effete  ones,  have  simultaneously  risen  far 
higher  than  the  first.  Thus  far  in  human  history 
the  series  has  been  upon  the  whole  an  ascending  one, 


CHAP.  IX  THE  PURPOSE    OF  SOCIOLOGY  20/ 

and  man  has  slowly  but  rhythmically,  and  somewhat 
fitfully  advanced.  He  has  done  this  without  the  aid 
of  either  economics  or  sociology,  in  ways  which  it 
will  he  the  purpose  of  the  next  chapter  to  point  out. 
The  question  may  therefore  present  itself  to  some 
minds :  If  social  evolution  goes  on  without  science, 
what  is  the  need  of  science  except  for  its  own  sake  ? 
This  question  is  precisely  similar  to  another  that  is 
still  sometimes  asked.  Recognizing  the  great  re- 
storative powers  of  the  Imman  system  and  the  fact 
that  under  normal  conditions  nature  tends  toward 
health  and  not  toward  disease,  what  is  the  use  of  the 
healing  art,  and  why  not  leave  all  to  the  vis  medica- 
trix  naturcB?  The  answer  to  both  questions  is  generi- 
cally  the  same,  that  so  long  as  the  laws  of  nature, 
either  physiological  or  social,  are  not  scientifically 
understood,  there  is  no  virtue  in  any  form  of  thera- 
peutics, but  so  soon  as  these  laws  in  either  depart- 
ment become  scientifically  known  it  is  possible,  and 
in  strict  proportion  to  that  knowledge,  to  "  assist 
nature "  in  its  struggle  against  all  the  powers  of  a 
hostile  environment.  The  real  answer,  then,  to  the 
question  as  to  the  purpose  of  sociology  is :  to  acceler- 
ate social  evolution. 

In  thus  stating  the  purpose  of  sociology,  however, 
I  shall  not,  I  trust,  be  misunderstood  by  being  sup- 
posed to  confound  the  purpose  of  the  science  itself 
with  the  purpose  of  the  student  in  studying  it.  By 
the  purpose  of  the  science  is  meant  the  general  bene- 
ficial effect  that  it  is  expected  to  exert  upon  society 


208  SOCIAL  SCIENCE  part  ii 

at  large.  It  is  difficult  to  estimate  the  power  of  a 
body  of  knowledge  which  has  once  become  the  com- 
mon property  of  a  whole  people.  It  is  not  expected 
that  any  great  proportion  even  of  the  most  en- 
lightened public  will  have  actually  been  at  any  time 
students  of  sociology  at  any  institution  of  learning. 
The  more  there  are  of  such  the  better,  but  scientific 
truth  can  happily  make  its  way  very  far  into  the 
lives  of  all  classes  although  received  at  first  hand 
into  the  minds  of  a  very  few.  The  power  of  estab- 
lished truth  is  immense.  This  is  chiefly  because  no 
one  wants  to  be  found  ignorant  of,  or  opposed  to, 
that  which  has  been  proved  to  be  true.  A  mere 
theory  will  make  little  headway,  because  no  one  will 
feel  any  humiliation  in  either  not  knowing  it  or  not 
accepting  it.  But  when  the  indications  fairly  set  in 
that  it  is  something  scientifically  demonstrated,  ig- 
norance becomes  a  disgrace  and  non-acceptance  a 
proof  of  ignorance.  A  rivalry  springs  up  both  to 
know  and  to  embrace,  and  thousands  who  have  only 
the  most  meagre  acquaintance  with  such  truths 
openly  defend  them. 

The  history  of  science  is  full  of  illustrations.  The 
profound  impression  which  any  great  cosmic  truth 
makes  even  upon  the  least  instructed  portion  of  the 
public  is  well  exemplified  in  the  discovery,  or  rather 
rediscovery  of  the  heliocentric  system  by  Copernicus 
and  Galileo.  Although  at  first  antagonized  by  the 
church  as  contrary  to  Holy  Writ,  it  was  soon  uni- 
versally accepted  and  came  to  constitute  a  part  of 


CHAP.  IX  THE  PURPOSE    OF  SOCIOLOGY  209 

the  stock  of  knowledge  of  millions  who  could  not 
follow  out  the  simplest  mathematical  demonstration, 
clearly  showing  that  it  is  not  necessary  to  be  an 
astronomer  or  a  mathematician  to  understand  laws 
that  have  taxed  the  brains  of  the  ablest  astronomers 
and  mathematicians  to  demonstrate. 

Passing  to  physics,  not  to  speak  of  the  discovery 
of  the  law  of  gravitation  which  is  so  closely  con- 
nected with  the  heliocentric  system,  but  which  every- 
body now  understands  in  a  certain  way,  we  may  note 
the  social  effect  of  the  establishment  of  the  law  of 
the  conservation  of  energy.  How  profoundly  it 
influences  the  life  and  even  the  conduct  of  all  but 
the  very  lowest  classes  of  society  !  Everybody  real- 
izes that  the  invisible  powers  around  him  have  been 
rescued  from  a  state  of  chaos  and  reduced  to  a  con- 
dition of  law.  Add  to  this  the  inspiration  it  has  lent 
to  invention  and  the  condition  it  has  furnished  for 
the  recent  strides  in  engineering  and  mechanic  art. 

The  march  of  geological  truth  has  not  been  less 
prolific  of  social  results.  The  knowledge  of  the 
world  that  has  resulted  from  the  researches  of 
Werner,  lilumenbach,  Hutton,  and  Lyell  has  exerted 
a  moral  influence  that  penetrates  into  the  lowest 
strata  of  society.  It  has  also  led  to  the  development 
of  the  resources  of  the  earth  as  nothing  else  could 
have  done. 

The  last  great  epoch-making  truth  has  come 
through  biology.  The  law  of  animal  and  vegetal 
development,  of  the  derivation  of  the  higher  types 


210  SOCIAL  SCIENCE  part  il 

from  the  lower,  of  organic  advance  through  the  ages, 
has  probably  influenced  the  thought  and  action  of 
the  world  in  a  higher  degree  than  any  other  one 
cause.  The  progress  of  this  idea  is  also  the  best 
illustration  of  the  way  great  truths  work,  of  the 
manner  in  which  thought  waves  propagate  them- 
selves through  the  social  media  and  light  up  the 
darkest  corners  of  the  world. 

Finally,  of  all  these  truths  there  has  now  been  a 
synthesis  ;  a  wider  law  has  been  discovered  that  em- 
braces them  all,  and  the  whole  universe,  from  the 
nebulae  and  remotest  stars  to  mankind  and  human 
society,  is  seen  to  be  evolving  and  rolling  on  toward 
some  unknown  goal.  The  law  of  evolution  has  been 
disclosed.  Where  is  the  eddy  so  hidden  and  seques- 
tered in  social  life  that  it  has  not  felt  some  seismic 
jar  from  this  vast  psychic  earthquake  ? 

But  progress  in  unfolding  the  truths  of  the  uni- 
verse has  taken  place  in  the  order  of  their  remote- 
ness from  human  interests.  The  ones  earliest  brought 
to  light  were  farthest  from  man  and  least  useful  to 
him.  Astronomical  truth  was  less  valuable  than 
physical,  and  physical  than  vital. 

There  are  two  great  domains  in  which  scarcely  any 
wide  discoveries  have  yet  been  made.  These  are  the 
domains  of  mind  and  society.  Psychic  and  social 
truth,  when  it  shall  begin  to  be  revealed,  will  be  far 
more  practical  than  even  biologic  truth.  The  lead- 
ing propositions  in  both  these  fields  are  to-day  chiefly 
in  the  stage  of  theory.     To  exert  an  influence  they 


CHAP.  IX  THE  PURPOSE   OF  SOCIOLOGY  211 

must  be  established.  Sociologists  must  agree  upon 
those  that  are  capable  of  demonstration  and  recog- 
nize them  according  to  their  value.  In  the  present 
state  of  the  science  each  one  is  so  intent  on  his  own 
discoveries,  or  supposed  discoveries,  that  he  can 
scarcely  take  time  to  acquaint  himself  with  the 
views  of  others.  But  society  has  a  right  to  demand 
that  everything  that  is  true  shall  be  made  public 
property.  The  teacher  in  particular  is  bound  to 
weigh  all  results  impartially  and  to  give  the  student 
an  opportunity  to  do  the  same.  In  this  way  what  is 
not  true  will  be  eliminated  and  what  is  true  will  be 
classified  and  each  truth  assigned  its  place  in  a  general 
system. 

If  the  great  law  of  the  conservation  of  energy  and 
the  correlation  of  forces,  whicli  has  brought  order 
out  of  chaos  in  the  physical  world,  can  be  extended 
to  the  psychic  and  social  world,  at  whatever  sacrifice 
of  false  pride,  the  gain  must  be  stupendous.  If  there 
can  really  be  established  a  "dynamics  of  mind  "^  and 
a  "  mechanics  of  society,"  the  era  of  speculation  in 
these  fields  is  over  and  the  era  of  science  has  begun. 
An  age  of  psychic  and  social  invention  and  discovery 
must  follow,  ushering  in  an  age  of  social  machinery. 
The  general  acceptance  of  such  a  truth,  if  it  be  a 
truth  (and  if  it  be  not,  there  is  no  social  science), 
might  ultimately  have  the  effect  to  transform  and 
unify  the  entire  system  of  human  government  by 
substituting,  as  has  been  done  in  the  physical 
^  Psychic  Factors  of  Civilization,  chap,  xv. 


212  SOCIAL   SCIENCE  part  ii 

world,  the  laws  and  powers  of  nature  for  those 
of  man. 

While  I  cannot  but  regard  this  as  by  far  the  most 
important  of  all  sociological  principles,  I  freely  admit 
that  there  are  many  others  of  high  utilitarian  rank 
that  simply  require  verification,  elucidation,  and 
elaboration.  Once  established  they  should  be  fully 
recognized,  no  matter  how  humble  or  obscure  the 
source  from  which  they  may  have  emanated,  and 
speedily  added  to  the  common  stock  of  knowledge. 

But  aside  entirely  from  all  extravagant  claims  for 
any  system,  independently  of  the  question  whether 
any  of  the  alleged  social  principles  are  sound,  it  is 
still  safe  to  assert  that  there  must  be  elements  for  a 
science  of  society,  and  that  when  these  elements  are 
detected,  collated,  and  reduced  to  law,  such  a  science 
will  be  established;  and  it  is  further  beyond  question 
that  when  the  true  science  of  society  shall  be  estab- 
lished and  accepted  as  other  sciences  are  accepted,  its 
influence  on  the  interests  of  man  and  the  destiny  of 
the  race  will  be  as  much  greater  than  that  of  the 
simpler  sciences  as  sociology  is  nearer  to  man  and 
more  intimately  bound  up  with  all  that  concerns  his 
welfare. 


CHAPTER  X 

SOCIAL  GENESIS  1 

The  word  genesis,  unlike  telesis,  is  in  common  use 
in  most  or  all  modern  languages,  although  it  is  em- 
ployed with  different  meanings.  Derived  from  the 
obsolete  Greek  verb  jevco,  of  which  the  reduplicate 
middle  form  yLyvofiai,  was  the  one  chiefly  in  use  by 
classic  authors,  it  partakes  of  the  radical  significa- 
tion of  that  verb,  which  is  to  become.  It  was  prob- 
ably this  neuter  signification  which  led  the  Greeks 
to  prefer  this  middle  form,  and  the  possession  by  the 
Greek  language  of  such  a  form  constitutes  one  of 
its  distinctive  characteristics.  It  is  something  quite 
distinct  from  the  passive,  and  the  Latin  fieri  poorly 
represents  the  Greek  word.  A  passive  implies  an 
active,  and  this  an  actor.  This  whole  idea  is  want- 
ing in  the  Greek  middle,  and  a  form  of  action  is 
recognized  which  is  not  associated  with  any  agent, 
intelligent  or  unintelligent.  It  recognizes  one  of 
the  most  important  truths  in  nature,  that  there  are 
processes  which  go  on  independent  of  any  external 
conditioning  being  or  thing,  that  are  self-active,  and 

1  American  Journal  of  Sociology,  Vol.  II.,  No.  4,  Chicago, 
January,  1897,  pp.  632-646. 

213 


214  SOCIAL  SCIENCE  part  ii 

although  the  absence  of  adequate  causes  is  not  im- 
plied, those  causes  are  conceived  as  inherent  in  the 
objects  that  are  regarded  as  active,  and  the  phe- 
nomena are  contemplated  as  producing  themselves. 
The  progress  of  science  has  constantly  contributed 
to  confirm  the  legitimacy  of  this  conception,  and  its 
great  work  has  consisted  in  the  steady  transfer  of 
one  field  of  phenomena  after  another  from  a  sup- 
posed active  or  passive  condition  to  this  independent 
middle  condition,  rescuing  them  from  anthropomor- 
phic conceptions  and  demonstrating  the  self -activity 
of  the  universe.  This  has  gone  so  far  that  to-day 
all  things  are  looked  at  from  the  standpoint  of 
evolution,  and  evolution  is  only  an  expression  for 
universal  genesis. 

Although  genesis  is  sometimes  translated  creation^ 
yet  at  bottom  it  is  the  precise  opposite  of  creation 
(TToiT]cn<i).  The  Latin  language,  as  already  said, 
imperfectly  expressed  this  middle  sense  by  various 
uses  of  the  passive  voice,  but  modern  languages, 
developed  more  under  the  influence  of  scientific 
conceptions,  have  partly  supplied  the  defect  by  the 
almost  universal  use  of  a  reflective  form.  The 
Italian,  Spanish,  Portuguese,  French,  German,  and 
Russian  languages  all  make  extensive  use  of  this 
form,  and  the  Russian,  which  has  many  of  the  ele- 
ments of  the  Greek  besides  its  characters,  resorts 
to  this  method  even  more  than  the  Romance  lan- 
guages. The  English  is  perhaps  the  poorest  of  all 
modern   languages   in   this    respect,  but    there   are 


CHAP.  X  SOCIAL    GENESIS  21$ 

many  ways  in  which  we  are  able  to  avoid  the  im- 
plication of  an  agent  in  natural  phenomena.  We 
borrow  largely  from  other  tongues  and  possess  many 
terms  to  express  simple  becoming.  Although  there 
is  no  Anglo-Saxon  equivalent  in  use  in  English  for 
the  strong  German  word  werden^  still  the  advance 
in  scientific  thought  towards  the  conception  of  a 
self-existent,  self-adjusting,  and  self-active  universe 
has  nowhere  been  greater  than  in  English-sx^eaking 
countries. 

Progress  in  this  direction  has  taken  place  some- 
what in  the  order  of  the  complexity  of  the  phe- 
nomena considered,  and  the  external  agent  conceived 
by  Kepler  was  first  eliminated  from  astronomical 
ideas.  Somewhat  later  it  disappeared  from  physical 
and  chemical  conceptions,  and  it  has  now  nearly 
abandoned  the  field  of  vital  activities.  It  still  lin- 
gers in  the  realm  of  mind,  and  anthropomorphic 
conceptions  are  still  dominant  in  social  thinking. 
There  is,  however,  in  this  last  department,  as  was 
seen  in  the  eighth  chapter  of  this  work,  and  as  will 
be  more  fully  sliown  in  the  eleventh,  a  scientific 
basis  for  the  idea,  in  conceiving  man  as  an  intelli- 
gent agent  modifying  his  environment.  In  other 
words,  while  there  is  no  more  room  in  sociology 
than  in  any  of  the  simpler  sciences  for  a  tlieo- 
teleology,  there  does  exist  an  anthropo-teleology  ^ 
which  becomes  an  increasingly  important  factor  as 
intelligence  advances. 

*  Dynamic  Sociology.,  Vol.  I.,  p.  28. 


2l6  SOCIAL   SCIENCE  part  ll 

In  the  present  chapter  it  is  proposed  to  ignore  this 
factor  as  completely  as  possible,  and  to  concentrate 
the  attention  upon  society  as  a  pure  becoming  —  as  a 
strictly  genetic  product  —  as  much  so  as  the  vege- 
table and  animal  forms  on  the  earth's  surface,  or 
even  as  the  world  systems  of  space.  Still,  as  society 
is  an  exclusive  product  of  mind,  the  influence  of 
mind  cannot  be  omitted,  and  the  only  part  of  the 
psychic  factor  that  can  really  be  thought  away  is 
the  social  mind  —  the  conscious  agency  of  society 
itself  intentionally  modifying  its  own  condition. 

Dynamic  sociology  is  the  homologue  in  human 
society  of  development  in  biology.  The  modus 
operandi  is  not  widely  different  from  that  of  natural 
selection,  and  is,  in  fact,  a  sort  of  social  selection. 
In  it,  however,  the  Lamarckian  principle  of  indi- 
vidual effort  is  more  prominent,  only,  as  pointed 
out,  instead  of  modifying  to  any  great  extent  man's 
bodily  structures,  these  efforts  modify  his  environ- 
ment. But  the  principal  resemblance  to  which  it 
is  proposed  to  call  attention  in  this  chapter  is  the 
common  character  of  both  processes  of  going  on 
spontaneously,  or  without  design  or  thought  on  the 
part  of  the  beings  that  put  forth  these  exertions 
and  produce  the  effects.  This  is  the  quality  which 
I  distinguish  by  the  term  genetic,  and  the  social 
progress  that  takes  place  in  this  manner  does  not 
differ  from  any  of  the  other  forms  of  evolution,  not 
even  from  inorganic  evolution.  For  although,  as 
in  animal  development,  psychic  forces  are  the  chief 


CHAP.  X  SOCIAL    GENESIS  21/ 

agents,  these  act  spontaneously  and  in  a  sense  un- 
consciously. 

The  treatment  of  this  form  of  social  progress  I 
formerly  denominated  "passive  or  negative,"  as 
distinguished  from  "  active  or  positive "  dynamic 
sociology,  which  latter,  instead  of  being  genetic, 
I  recognized  as  teleological,  for  which  I  now  pre- 
fer the  shorter  form  telle.  The  following  is  the 
definition  which  I  then  gave  :  — ■ 

Passive,  or  negative,  progress  contemplates  the  forces 
of  society  as  operating  in  their  natural  freedom,  subject 
only  to  the  laws  of  evolution  in  general.  Here  society 
is  regarded  as  passive  in  the  sense  of  being  simply  acted 
upon  by  the  forces  that  surround  it  and  operate  within 
it.  It  is  conceived  as  negative  from  the  absence  of  any 
force  extraneous  to  these  regular  natural  forces  operating 
in  the  direction  of  their  limitation  or  modification.  Such, 
it  is  believed,  has  been  the  nature  of  most  of  the  progress 
thus  far  attained  by  society,  as  it  is  of  all  that  which  has 
taken  place  in  the  animal,  vegetable,  and  inorganic  king- 
doms of  nature.^ 

The  concluding  chapter  of  that  volume  (chap, 
vii.)  containing  over  two  hundred  and  fifty  pages, 
is  chiefly  devoted  to  this  passive  or  negative  aspect 
of  social  dynamics  (see  p.  456).  In  the  present 
chapter  only  a  few  of  the  most  general  principles 
can,  of  course,  be  treated.  That  work,  as  the  name 
implies,  was  limited  to  this  class  of  considerations. 
This  was  stated  at  the  close  of  the  volume  cited  : 

*  Dynamic  Sociology,  Vol,  I.,  pp.  56-57. 


2l8  SOCIAL  SCIENCE  part  il 

It  has  therefore  been  the  movement  rather  than  the 
status  of  society,  which  it  has  been  sought  to  explain,  the 
causes  of  social  phenomena  and  social  progress  rather 
than  the  condition  of  society  itself.  The  status,  or  con- 
dition, of  society  is  to  be  learned  by  the  consideration 
of  the  indirect,  or  functional,  effects  of  what  have  been 
denominated  the  social  forces.  The  study  of  the  indirect 
effect  of  the  preservative  forces  of  society  would  lead  to 
an  acquaintance  with  the  nature  of  the  objects  which 
have  been  employed  by  man  as  means  of  subsistence  — 
a  subject  only  touched  upon  in  this  chapter  because,  if 
legitimate,  manifestly  too  large  for  the  limits  of  the  work. 
The  consideration  of  the  indirect,  or  functional,  results 
of  the  reproductive  forces  would  lead  to  a  discussion  of 
the  most  important  of  all  social  institutions,  the  family 
—  a  subject  Avhich  has  already  been  ably  treated  by  many 
writers.  Still  less  could  we  afford  to  attempt  a  survey 
of  the  wide  field  of  aesthetic  art,  the  deep  currents  of 
human  morals,  or  the  intellectual  condition  of  mankind 
in  past  ages,  as  would  be  required  by  a  consideration  of 
the  indirect  effects  of  the  non-essential  forces.  These 
indirect,  or  consequential,  results  constitute  what  I  have 
called  the  objects  of  nature,  for  securing  which  the  desires 
and  passions  of  men  have  been  developed  by  the  law  of 
natural  selection.  As  already  remarked,  they  have  no 
necessary  or  real  connection  with  the  object  of  man,  which 
is  to  enjoy,  and  the  harmony  between  the  two  can  only 
be  accounted  for,  as  stated,  by  adaptation.^ 

I  have  quoted  these  passages  to  show  how  careful 
I  was  to  draw  the  distinction  clearly  between  static 
and  dynamic  sociology  and  to  disclaim  all  pretension 
to  having  attempted  to  treat  the  former  subject.  I 
would  not  have  done  so  if  there  had  not  been  numer- 

1  Dynamic  Sociology,  Vol.  I.,  pp.  701-702. 


CHAP.  X  SOCIAL    GENESIS  219 

ous  indications  that  certain  persons,  teachers  of 
sociology  in  our  great  universities,  look  upon  my 
works  as  practically  covering  the  whole  of  that  great 
science.  I  certainly  deserve  no  such  compliment, 
and  positive  harm  might  result,  not  only  to  the 
student  but  to  the  science,  from  perpetuating  the 
mistake.  All  I  have  pretended  to  do  has  been,  after 
looking  over  this  vast  field  and  discovering  certain 
neglected  patches,  to  proceed  as  best  I  could  to  cul- 
tivate these,  leaving  the  larger  areas  to  those  better 
equipped  for  their  culture.  But  I  certainly  did  exert 
myself  to  draw  tlie  boundary  lines  as  carefully  as 
possible,  and  to  show  in  the  most  fundamental  way 
how  the  statical  phenomena  differ  from  the  dynam- 
ical ones.  Much  more  stress  was,  of  course,  laid 
upon  the  essential  nature  of  dynamic  agencies  in 
society.  Starting  upon  the  basic  distinction  of  feel- 
ing and  function,  I  rang  all  the  changes  that  could 
be  produced  upon  this  fundamental  antinomy.  In- 
deed, so  forcibly  did  it  strike  me  that  I  made  an 
exception  in  its  favor,  and  departed  from  my  other- 
wise fixed  policy  of  publishing  no  part  of  my  philoso- 
pliy  in  advance  of  the  complete  work,  and  three 
years  before  that  work  appeared  I  read  a  paper 
on  "  Feeling  and  Function  as  Factors  in  Human 
Development "  before  the  section  of  Anthropology 
of  the  American  Association  for  the  Advancement 
of  Science,  at  its  meeting  in  Boston  in  1880,  reports  of 
which  appeared  in  the  daily  press,^  aiid  an  abstract 
*  See  The  Boston  Advertiser  toi  September  1,  1880,  p.  1. 


220  SOCIAL  SCIENCE  part  il 

prepared  by  myself  was  published  in  Science,^  in 
which  not  only  was  the  general  principle  fully  stated, 
but  a  classification  of  the  social  forces  was  given, 
substantially  identical  with  that  finally  drawn  up  and 
published  in  Dynamic  Sociology  (Vol.  I.,  p.  472). 

In  the  preliminary  paper  referred  to,  while  full 
weight  was  given  to  the  fundamental  antithesis  itself, 
the  direct  or  causal  nature  of  actions  produced  by 
the  one,  and  the  indirect  or  consequential  nature  of 
those  produced  by  the  other,  were  not  specially  set 
forth.  This  was  subsequently  worked  out,  and  the 
passages  already  quoted  sufficiently  express  the  latter 
of  these  laws,  which  is  the  basis  of  social  statics. 
The  former  or  dynamic  law  was  formulated  in  the 
introduction  to  the  classification  of  the  social  forces,* 
but  perhaps  the  clearest  expression  of  it  occurs  in 
the  treatment  of  the  reproductive  forces,  in  connec- 
tion with  which  the  principle  comes  forward  with 
the  greatest  clearness,  and  it  is  stated  that  "  the  first 
of  these  classes  of  effects  may  be  denominated  direct 
or  causal,  the  second  indirect  or  consequential."  ^ 

We  see,  then,  that  the  primary  characteristic  of 
genetic  social  progress  is  that  it  results  from  the 
actions  of  men  that  directly  flow  from  their  efforts 
to  satisfy  their  desires.  It  is  this,  too,  which  gives 
it  its  distinctively  genetic  character.  Genesis  is 
becoming,  and  whatever  is  genetically  produced  is 

1  Science,  Original  Series,  Vol.  I.,  New  York,  October  23,  1880, 
pp.  210-211. 

2  Dynamic  Sociology,  Vol.  I.,  p.  469.  »  Ihid.,  p.  603. 


CHAP.  X  SOCIAL    GENESIS  221 

the  result  of  a  vis  a  tergo  molding  it  into  shape 
by  successi\'^  impacts.  The  impinging  body  is  in 
direct  and  intimate  contact  with  the  one  that  is  being 
molded.  The  change  produced  is  gradual  and  the 
process  is  one  of  development  or  evolution.  Social 
progress  is  in  this  respect  analogous  to  organic  prog- 
ress, or  even  to  cosmic  progress.  It  is  never  sudden 
or  rapid.  It  does  not  take  place  by  leaps  or  strides. 
Increment  after  increment  is  slowly  added  to  social 
as  to  animal  structures,  and  in  the  course  of  ages 
habits,  customs,  laws,  and  institutions  are  changed, 
or  abolished  and  replaced  by  others.  As  the  object 
of  all  these  activities  is  always  the  fuller  satisfaction 
of  desire,  and  as  such  satisfaction  results  in  self- 
preservation  and  race  continuance,  the  effect  in  the 
long  run,  under  the  ever-present  law  of  selection,  is 
to  produce  superior  races.  This  effect,  however,  is 
biologic,  or  rather  ethnologic.  The  sociologic  effect 
is  to  adapt  the  environment,  i.e.,  to  improve  the 
conditions  of  existence.  This  is  social  progress,  but, 
like  organic  progress,  it  may  and  does  result  in  the 
extinction  of  deficient  and  the  preservation  of  effi- 
cient races  and  institutions. 

Reverting  to  tlie  figurative  expression  employed 
in  the  fifth  chapter,  we  may  now  perceive  that  just  as 
the  origin  of  feeling,  except  as  a  condition  to  func- 
tion, was  a  matter  of  entire  indifference  to  Nature, 
so  this  social  progress,  like  organic  development,  is 
equally  immaterial  from  the  standpoint  of  Nature's 
purposes,  and  only  useful  in  so  far  as  it  incidentally 


222  SOCIAL  SCIENCE  part  ii 

compasses  the  furtherance  of  those  purposes.  In 
other  words,  just  as  Nature  does  not  care  whether 
desire  is  satisfied  or  not,  so  long  as  life  is  preserved 
and  perpetuated,  so  she  in  like  manner  has  no  con- 
cern for  this  social  progress  in  and  for  itself,  but 
only  in  so  far  as  it  becomes  a  means  to  her  ends. 
Still  more  broadly  put,  it  is  no  part  of  the  scheme 
of  Nature  to  bring  about  change,  but  only  to  secure 
growth  and  multiplication.  Everything  else  is  extra- 
normal  and  unintended. 

It  certainly  seems  a  startling  proposition  that 
social  progress  forms  no  part  of  the  scheme  of 
Nature,  but  it  is  true  in  this  sense,  and  civilization 
itself  belongs  to  the  class  of  extra-normal  products. 
This  would  of  course  be  a  futile  speculation  but  for 
the  important  practical  truth  that  flows  from  it  as 
a  corollary.  This  is,  that  man  is  living  under  a  new 
dispensation.  He  has  cut  loose  from  his  natural 
moorings  and  is  afloat  upon  a  great  sea.  He  has 
started  on  a  voyage  in  search  of  an  Eldorado.  He 
left  the  mother  country  against  the  protestations  of 
his  countrymen,  and  now  he  must,  like  a  real  hero, 
discover  the  rich  land  of  his  dreams  or  else  he  must 
ignominiously  perish.  He  is  too  far  out  now  on  this 
great  voyage  of  discovery  to  turn  back,  and  there- 
fore he  can  only  go  forward.  He  is  therefore  push- 
ing on,  and  already  the  dim  outline  of  the  distant 
land  is  looming  upon  the  horizon. 

To  drop  the  figure,  this  blind  genetic  progress 
which  has,  without  man's  knowledge  or  solicitude. 


CHAP.  X  SOCIAL    GENESIS  223 

wrought  out  the  civilization  that  we  have,  has  nearly 
reached  the  point  at  which  society  itself  will  awake 
to  collective  consciousness  and  usher  in  an  era  of 
telic  progress,  the  end  and  nature  of  which  cannot 
now  be  forecast.  But  its  object  cannot  be  other 
than  that  which  the  individual  man  has  always  pur- 
sued, viz.,  that  of  turning  to  higher  and  higher  use 
the  capacity  to  enjoy  with  which  Nature  unwittingly, 
and  for  her  own  totally  diiferent  purposes,  originally 
endowed  him. 

Genetic  progress,  the  blind,  unconscious  working 
of  the  social  forces  making  for  human  perfectionment 
in  the  collective  state,  is  what  is  generally  under- 
stood by  social  evolution.  Every  stage  of  ethnic 
culture,  from  savagery  to  enlightenment,  is  a  product 
of  this  genetic,  unconscious  social  evolution.  For 
most  writers  on  social  science  this  is  the  only  kind 
of  social  progress  recognized.  Long  before  sociology 
was  named  there  were  many  such  writers.  With 
the  habits  of  abstract  reasoning  which  all  that  passed 
for  philosophy  had  encouraged,  it  was  the  practice 
of  such  writers  to  make  use  of  the  few  facts  that 
tlieir  education,  observation,  and  experience  had 
given  them  to  work  out  by  logical  deduction  from 
these  facts,  the  most  general  laws  that  they  were 
capable  of  formulating.  Much  of  this  reasoning  was 
sound,  nearly  all  of  it  was  logical,  ^.e.,  did  not  violate 
the  canons  of  logic,  and  many  of  the  conclusions 
reached  were  correct,  but  so  narrow  was  the  induc- 
tion, and  so  many  and  important  were  the  unknown 


224  SOCIAL   SCIENCE  PART  11 

or  neglected  premises  that  the  general  fabric  of  their 
philosophy  was  worthless.  Such  was  the  greater 
part  of  the  so-called  political  economy  which  the 
present  age  has  inherited  from  the  age  that  went 
before  it.  Most  of  the  pre-Comtean  sociology  comes 
under  this  head.  A  few  publicists,  like  Montesquieu, 
wrote  rather  from  the  standpoint  of  jurisprudence. 
Hobbes  was  the  panegyrist  of  political  power,  and 
Malthus,  although  really  following  the  same  lines  as 
Adam  Smith  and  Ricardo,  put  his  work  into  the  form 
of  a  sort  of  philosophy. 

All  this,  as  well  as  the  French  physiocracy  that 
preceded  it  and  largely  inspired  it,  had  the  merit  at 
least  of  regarding  society  as  a  domain  of  law,  and  its 
chief  defect  was  in  failing  to  recognize  a  sufficient 
number  of  factors  and  in  omitting  some  of  the  most 
effective  ones,  as  we  shall  see  in  the  next  chapter. 
These  men  saw  in  human  society  a  theater  of  wide 
general  activity  which  proceeds  from  the  inherent 
nature  of  man.  They  perceived  that  if  men  were 
left  quite  to  themselves  they  would,  in  seeking  their 
personal  ends,  spontaneously  initiate  and  carry  on 
all  the  industries  of  society.  Owing  to  the  manifest 
abuses  of  power  by  the  ruling  classes  in  seeking  to 
raise  revenues  for  their  own  uses,  conquer  other 
nations  for  their  own  glory,  and  otherwise  satisfy 
their  own  greed  and  ambition,  whereby  the  free  flow 
of  these  natural  activities  was  checked,  industry  and 
commerce  were  stifled  or  misdirected,  and  the  general 
prosperity  was  interfered  with  and  diminished,  they 


CHAP.  X  SOCIAL    GENESIS  22$ 

felt  called  upon  to  counteract  these  tendencies  and 
advocate  the  liberation  of  the  natural  forces  of 
society.  In  taking  this  course  at  such  a  time  they 
accomplished  a  worthy  purpose  and  inaugurated  a 
wholesome  reform. 

No  one  denies  that  the  unrestrained  activities  of 
the  human  race  would  work  out  some  sort  of  social 
development.  The  analogy  with  organic  evolution 
in  the  subhuman  sphere  is  also  a  true  one.  Though 
qualified  in  its  details  by  the  differences  between 
men  and  animals,  even  by  the  immense  difference 
between  the  human  mind  and  the  animal  mind,  with 
a  corresponding  difference  in  the  results,  the  princi- 
ple according  to  which  these  results  are  accomj^lished 
is  essentially  the  same.  Those  reformers  who  main- 
tain that  the  monopolistic  tendencies  so  prevalent  in 
society  under  the  apparent  absence  of  external  re- 
straint or  collective  influence  are  peculiar  to  human 
affairs,  and  wanting  in  the  lower  domains  of  life  and 
mind,  simply  betray  their  lack  of  acquaintance  with 
those  domains.  In  fact,  the  fundamental  condition 
to  biological  development  is  monopoly.  Natural 
selection  operates  on  this  principle  exclusively. 
What  is  called  the  survival  of  the  fittest  is  simply 
the  monopoly  of  the  strongest.  It  does  not  work 
liere  either  in  the  mild  manner  characteristic  of 
liuman  society,  viz.,  that  of  allowing  the  weaker 
to  exist,  only  under  conditions  of  reduced  activity 
and  stunted  growth,  but  it  is  thoroughgoing  and 
crushes  out  the  unsuccessful  competitors  completely. 
Q 


226  SOCIAL  SCIENCE  part  ii 

It  is  only  paralleled  in  human  society  in  those  rare 
cases  where  a  superior  race  overflows  the  domain  of 
an  inferior  one  and  utterly  eradicates  it  —  does  not 
enslave  it  and  allow  it  to  lead  a  life  of  subjugation, 
much  less,  as  is  the  more  frequent  case,  partially 
commingle  with  it  and  ultimately  absorb  it  —  but  de- 
stroys it  root  and  branch  so  that  it  utterly  ceases  to 
exist.  This  is  the  method  of  nature  in  the  animal 
an^  vegetable  kingdoms,  and  thus  is  organic  evolu- 
tion brought  about.  At  least  such  is  the  tendency 
and  frequent  result,  but  of  course  the  competitors 
are  often  so  nearly  balanced  in  this  monopolistic 
power  that  they  coexist  for  long  periods  or  indefi- 
nitely. 

The  expressions  natural  selection  and  survival  of 
the  fittest  give  only  the  positive  side  of  this  general 
law.  There  is  a  negative  side  which  brings  out  the 
nature  of  the  law  even  more  clearly.  Selection  im- 
plies rejection,  and  survival  suggests  extinction.  It 
may  be  looked  at  as  a  process  of  elimination.  The 
survival  of  the  fit  means  the  failure  of  the  unfit. 
The  selection  of  the  strong  is  the  destruction  of  the 
weak.  The  rejected  vastly  outnumber  the  selected. 
Throughout  nature  this  is  the  law,  and  the  result  is, 
or  has  thus  far  chiefly  been,  progressive  development 
or  structural  perfectionment.  Up  to  a  certain  point 
this  law  must  have  operated  on  man  as  on  the  animal; 
the  only  men  with  whom  we  are  now  acquainted  have 
gone  beyond  it,  or  at  least  greatly  reduced  its  effects. 

As  already  stated,  sociology  has  nothing  to  do 


CHAP.  X  SOCIAL    GENESIS  22/ 

with  structural  changes  in  man,  and  social  develop- 
ment consists  in  modifying  the  environment.  But 
even  here  the  law  of  natural  evolution  may  and  does 
apply.  Monopolistic  tendencies  are  apparent  in  all 
social  operations.  They  assume  a  great  variety  of 
forms.  The  self-aggrandizement  of  rulers  is  one  of 
those  forms.  One  of  the  principal  mistakes  of  the 
social  philosophy  under  discussion,  and  one  still 
largely  prevalent,  is  that  of  assuming  that  the  desire 
to  rule  differs  in  some  generic  way  from  other 
desires,  that  it  is  not  natural,  and  does  not  belong 
to  the  class  of  natural  laws.  It  certainly  admits  of 
no  such  distinction,  and  must  be  reckoned  with  along 
with  other  monopolistic  tendencies.  And  it  cannot 
be  doubted  that  the  efforts  put  forth  to  satisfy  this 
desire  have  resulted  in  some  of  the  most  effective 
steps  in  social  evolution.  To  this  influence  is  largely 
due  the  founding  of  great  nations,  and  there  is  prob- 
cably  no  one  factor  in  the  progress  of  society  more 
potent  than  the  crystallizing  and  humanizing  effect 
of  bringing  great  areas  and  vast  populations  under  a 
single  set  of  regulative  agencies. 

But  taking  for  the  moment  the  standpoint  of  the 
physiocratic  school  of  writers  referred  to,  and  sepa- 
rating tlie  natural  forces  of  society  into  the  two 
classes,  wliich  may  be  called  industrial  and  govern- 
mental, let  us  endeavor  to  form  an  idea  of  wliat  the 
result  would  be  if  the  former  alone  existed.  In  the 
face  of  the  obvious  fact  that  if  the  latter  class  were 
at   any  moment  wholly  in  abeyance  it  would   im- 


228  SOCIAL   SCIENCE  part  ii 

mediately  resume  operations  and  soon  restore  the 
existing  duality  of  conditions,  let  us  make  a  com- 
plete abstraction  of  all  this  and  seek  to  represent  to 
ourselves  the  normal  result  of  the  industrial  forces 
working  alone.  Some  such  attitude  has  always  been 
tacitly  assumed  by  those  who  habitually  condemn  the 
governments  of  the  world  and  conceive  them  to  be 
hostile  to  society.  These  misarchists  see  the  benefi- 
cent influences  of  natural  law  in  the  industrial  world 
interfered  with  by  what  seems  to  them  an  extraneous 
power,  which  most  candid  persons  will  probably 
admit  to  be  in  itself,  at  least  as  commonly  defined, 
non-progressive  or  only  negatively  progressive.  But 
the  class  I  refer  to  take  a  part  and  declare  it  repres- 
sive and  obstructive  of  progress.  The  celebrated 
"  parable  of  Saint  Simon "  gives  perhaps  the  most 
extreme  expression  to  this  view  that  has  thus  far 
been  uttered,  but  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer,  although 
he  would  not  abolish  government,  is  unquestionably 
its  severest  modern  critic,  so  much  so  that  anarchistic 
organs  openly  claim  him  as  their  philosopher. 

Now  if  we  could  imagine  that  no  single  member  of 
society  would  for  a  moment  think  of  such  a  thing  as 
the  formation  of  a  governing  body,  and  conceive  of 
each  of  its  members  as  simply  pursuing  his  individual 
ends  in  a  private  way;  taking  possession,  each  as 
best  he  might,  of  some  portion  of  the  soil,  cultivating 
it  for  his  own  use,  exchanging  his  surplus  products 
with  others  who,  choosing  as  now  other  occupations, 
should  produce  other  useful  things ;    making  con- 


CHAP.  X  SOCIAL    GENESIS  229 

tracts,  not  indeed  legal,  but  moral,  conditioned  ulti- 
mately on  each  one's  individual  power  to  enforce 
them  ;  building  cities  and  entering  into  mercantile 
and  other  kinds  of  business  ;  adopting  a  mutually 
accepted  medium  of  exchange,  or  carrying  on  a  bank- 
ing system  based  on  the  much-praised  principle  of 
credit  and  trust  ;  establishing  manufactures  of  all 
kinds  and  disposing  of  the  products  ;  building  rail- 
roads and  operating  them  without  any  other  restric- 
tions than  those  imposed  by  the  laws  of  business  and 
the  conditions  favorable  to  the  maximum  profits  ; 
conducting  educational  institutions  wholly  on  "busi- 
ness principles  "  ;  each  one  worshiping  as  now  in  the 
manner  he  prefers  ;  and  in  all  other  respects  acting 
individually  and  without  collective  restraint  —  if  we 
could  conceive,  I  say,  of  such  a  state  of  things,  we 
might  gain  a  clear  idea  of  society  distinct  from 
government.  The  two  things  are  not  essential  to 
each  other,  at  least  in  thought,  and  it  would  be  a 
great  gain  to  the  sociologist  to  be  able  to  separate 
them.  Even  if  it  be  admitted  that  government  is  a 
necessary  part  of  human  association,  it  would  be  an 
advantage  temporarily  to  abstract  it  just  as  we  can 
abstract  any  other  one  element  of  association.  Some, 
of  course,  will  say  that  the  things  specified  could  not 
be  done  in  such  a  state  ;  that  government  is  a  con- 
dition to  conducting  tlie  normal  operations  of  society, 
and  that  the  hypothesis  involves  the  assumption  of 
higher  moral  attributes  than  humanity  possesses. 
Such  an   assumption  would  render  the    hypothesis 


230  SOCIAL  SCIENCE  part  il 

worthless.  This,  therefore,  is  precisely  the  question 
to  be  asked  and  answered.  If  it  is  held  that  with- 
out government  society  would  defeat  itself  and  suc- 
cumb and  the  race  disappear  or  lapse  into  a  purely 
animal  or  non-social  condition,  then  the  inquiry  is 
ended.  But  given  the  mental  powers  possessed  by 
man,  few  will  go  so  far.  The  real  question  therefore 
is :  What  would  have  been  the  condition  of  society 
had  no  government  ever  been  framed  ?  How  many 
and  which  ones  of  the  existing  institutions  and  oper- 
ations of  society  would  exist,  and  what  other  ones 
would  have  been  developed  ?  These  are  difficult 
questions,  but  they  are  legitimate  ones  for  the  soci- 
ologist to  raise  and,  as  far  as  possible,  to  settle.  This 
is  especially  the  case  at  a  time  like  the  present,  when 
able  philosophers  are  calling  in  question  the  very 
raison  d^Stre  of  government.  Unquestionably  these 
are  the  ones  upon  whom  it  devolves  to  answer  these 
questions,  but  aside  from  all  controversy  it  is  profit- 
able to  consider  them. 

Assuming  that  society  would  have  survived  a  pure 
state  of  anarchy  from  the  beginning,  it  is  obvious  that 
there  must  have  been  some  kind  of  organization. 
This  is  implied  in  the  idea  of  association.  Gregari- 
ous animals  have  no  rulers  or  laws,  but  they  still 
have  a  social  organization.  There  are  social  forces 
that  hold  them  together.  So  it  would  be  with  men. 
It  is  claimed  with  much  truth  that  government  is 
never  the  result  of  a  desire  to  be  governed,  but 
always  of  a  desire  to  govern.     Peoples  never  clamor 


CHAP.  X  SOCIAL   GENESIS  23 1 

for  a  ruler,  but  rulers  rise  up  spontaneously  and 
assume  gubernatorial  powers.  If  there  were  no  am- 
bition to  rule,  no  desire  to  hold  office,  no  love  of 
glory,  and  no  expectation  of  emolument  beyond  what 
private  life  affords,  would  the  members  of  society 
ever  take  steps  to  have  a  government  established? 
Perhaps  not,  and  yet  there  is  no  doubt  that  many 
institutions  would  arise  under  such  circumstances. 
In  fact  we  may  regard  all  the  institutions  of  society 
except  those  that  form  a  part  of  government  as  hav- 
ing arisen  in  this  spontaneous  way.  The  multitudi- 
nous forms  of  association  that  prevail  belong  to  this 
class.  These  are  all  limited  as  to  membership,  which 
is  more  or  less  voluntary.  They  exist  for  a  great 
variety  of  widely  different  purposes,  and  tlie  same 
person  may  belong  to  any  number  of  them  at  the 
same  time.  It  is  clear  that  these  would  exist  even 
if  no  government  existed,  and  the  various  objects 
of  these  associations  would  be  accomplished.  The 
primary  social  forces  would  be  in  full  activity  in  a 
state  of  anarchy  the  same  as  undei"  any  form  of 
government,  and  men  would  put  forth  the  normal 
efforts  to  preserve,  continue,  and  mitigate  life.  If, 
as  has  been  assumed,  human  nature  was  wliat  it  is, 
the  egoistic  propensities  would  exist  as  now,  and 
even  if  no  one  wanted  to  undertake  their  control, 
society  would  certainly  adopt  some  moans  of  holding 
them  in  check.  Tliis  is  proved  by  the  way  in  which 
the  citizens  of  frontier  districts,  in  the  absence  of 
adequate  governmental  protection,  deal  with  advent- 


232  SOCIAL   SCIENCE  part  il 

urers  and  desperadoes  who  disturb  the  peace.  Vigi- 
lance committees  may  be  regarded  as  incipient 
spontaneous  governments,  without  any  motive  of 
ambition  or  emolument.  So  far  as  mere  protection 
from  anti-social  tendencies  is  concerned,  they  seem 
to  prove  that  government  would  always  originate 
itself  spontaneously.  How  far  it  would  go  if  these 
motives  were  permanently  absent  seems,  then,  to  be 
the  real  question. 

It  is  therefore  clear  that  society  would  not  only 
exist  without  other  government  than  that  which 
would  originate  spontaneously  from  other  causes 
than  the  desire  to  rule,  but  also  that  it  would  pro- 
gress in  some  degree.  This  progress  might  be 
regarded  as  typically  genetic,  and  the  exclusive 
product  of  the  normal  action  of  the  social  forces 
directly  modifying  the  environment  in  the  interest 
of  society. 

I  have  stated  this  hypothetical  case  in  order  to 
draw  the  distinction  as  clearly  as  possible  between 
genetic  progress  and  telic  progress.  So  large  a  part 
of  even  past  social  progress  has  been  telic  that  it  is 
extremely  difficult  to  separate  the  two.  Still,  from  a 
certain  point  of  view,  nearly  all  the  progress  thus 
far  attained  may  be  regarded  as  genetic.  In  the 
sense  of  being  the  result  of  the  normal  action  of 
natural  laws  all  of  it  must  be  so  regarded. 

There  is  a  sense,  then,  in  which  society  makes 
itself,  is  a  genetic  product,  and  its  progress  takes 
place  under  the  general  law  of  evolution  that  pre- 


CHAP.  X  SOCIAL    GENESIS  233 

vails  in  all  departments  of  natural  phenomena.  In 
organic  development  new  principles  are  constantly 
coming  in,  but  none  of  tli3se  exempts  the  resultant 
phenomena  from  the  action  of  the  law  of  evolution. 
That  law  applied  to  plants  after  each  of  the  succes- 
sive steps,  sexuality,  exogeny,  phanerogamy,  gymno- 
spermy,  angiospermy,  apetaly,  polypetaly,  gamopetaly, 
insect  agency,  etc.,  had  been  taken,  the  same  as  be- 
fore. In  the  animal  kingdom  it  was  not  affected  by 
the  successive  appearance  of  the  several  higher  types 
of  structure  from  moners  to  mammals  and  to  man. 
Even  the  psychic  faculty,  the  gradual  growth  of 
which  resulted  in  an  almost  complete  reversal,  from 
birds  upward,  of  the  conditions  that  governed  all 
creatures  below  and  including  the  Reptilia,  did  not 
visibly  check  the  onward  march  of  organic  progress, 
and  the  appearance  of  man  with  his  rational  faculty, 
while  it  has  not  wholly  arrested  physical  develop- 
ment, had  the  effect  of  transferring  the  evolutionary 
forces  to  the  social  field  to  go  on  at  an  accelerated 
pace.  No  more  has  social  telesis  interfered  with 
social  genesis,  and  the  telic  progress  which  indi- 
vidual men  have  secured  to  society  becomes  an 
integral  part  of  the  natural  evolution  of  the  human 
race.  We  may  even  rise  to  a  higher  plane  and  take 
into  the  cosmic  conception  the  past,  present,  and 
prospective  conscious  and  intentional  social  modi- 
fication, and  thus  bring  the  whole  into  one  great 
scheme  of  social  evolution. 


CHAPTER   XI 

INDIVIDUAL   TELESISi 

The  kind  of  social  progress  described  in  the  last 
chapter  as  Social  Genesis  constitutes  the  greater  part 
of  what  has  heretofore  been  recognized  as  having 
taken  place.  Man  has  been  looked  upon  as  a  prod- 
uct of  nature  and  as  having  developed  like  other 
such  products.  Society  has  been  contemplated  as 
an  evolution,  which  term  is  restricted  in  its  scope 
to  the  products  of  natural  forces  acting  under  the 
various  laws  which  have  been  discovered  to  be  in 
operation  throughout  the  universe.  Mr.  Herbert 
Spencer  has  formulated  those  laws  more  fully  than 
any  other  writer  for  both  cosmic  and  organic  evo- 
lution. 

This  point  of  view  may  be  regarded  as  a  purely 
objective  one  in  the  sense  that  the  products  of  evo- 
lution are  conceived  as  the  passive  recipients  of  the 
impulses  that  have  combined  to  form  them,  and  as 
not  themselves  taking  any  part  in  the  process.  This 
view  is  not  meant  to  exclude  internal  reactions  to 
external  stimuli,  which  are  essential  to  any  correct 

^  American  Journal  of  Sociology,  Vol,  II.,  No.  5,  Chicago, 
March,  1897,  pp.  699-717. 

234 


CHAP.  XI  INDIVIDUAL    TELE  SIS  235 

idea  of  evolution.  It  does  not  even  exclude  the 
efforts  which  creatures  put  forth  in  seeking  satis- 
faction, which  is  believed  by  Lamarckians  to  consti- 
tute the  largest  factor.  All  this  belongs  to  genetic 
progress  or  evolution  proper.  I  am,  I  believe,  the 
only  one  who  has  attempted  to  show  from  a  biologic, 
or  rather  a  psychologic  standpoint,  that  in  restrict- 
ing social  progress  to  these  passive  influences,  an 
important  factor  has  been  left  out  of  view.  This 
factor,  I  maintain,  is  a  subjective  one  not  found  at 
any  lower  stage  of  development,  and  exclusively 
characterizing  human  or  social  progress.  It  was 
chiefly  to  emphasize  this  factor  that  Dynamic  Soci- 
ology was  written,  and  the  second  volume  of  that 
work  is  devoted  to  this  task.  But  although  the 
first  volume  was  limited  to  setting  forth  the  nature 
of  the  already  recognized  objective,  passive,  or  nega- 
tive kind  of  social  progress  as  defined  in  passages 
quoted  in  the  preceding  chapter,  still  I  did  not  in 
that  volume  neglect  to  point  out  the  distinction  and 
emphasize  the  contrast  Ijetwcen  the  two  kinds  of 
social  progress.  Immediately  following  the  defini- 
tion of  passive  or  negative  progress  that  of  active 
or  positive  progress  is  given  as  follows  :  — 

Active,  or  positive,  progress  takes  place  tlirough  the 
application  to  the  natural  forces  acting  in  and  upon 
society  of  a  force  external  to  and  distinct  from  them. 
To  tlie  regular  course  of  the  social  phenomena  as  deter- 
mined by  the  laws  of  evolution,  we  must  conceive  added 
a  new  force  limiting   and   directing   these  into  special 


236  SOCIAL  SCIENCE  part  ii 

channels  and  for  special  ends.  Its  chief  quality  as  dis- 
tinguished from  other  forces  is  purpose.  In  short,  it  is 
the  teleological  force,  the  abstract  conception  of  which 
is  familiar  to  all,  having  formed  the  basis  of  theological 
philosophy.  .  .  .  This  force  is  regarded  as  active  by 
reason  of  its  direct  action  upon  the  remaining  forces 
controlling  society,  while  progress  thus  produced  may 
be  fitly  called  positive,  from  the  purely  arbitrary  char- 
acter of  its  processes  and  the  recognition  of  man  himself 
as  the  disposer  of  social  events.-^ 

In  the  initial  chapter  of  the  second  volume  (chap, 
viii.),  after  further  contrasting  genetic  and  teleologi- 
cal phenomena  in  general,  I  attempted  a  classifica- 
tion of  human  motives  or  efforts.  Employing  an 
old  but  excellent  word  revived  by  Sir  William  Ham- 
ilton, viz.,  conation,  to  signify  human  motive,  I 
divided  the  methods  employed  in  seeking  the  satis- 
faction of  desire  into  the  two  classes  direct  and  in- 
direct. The  "  direct  method  of  conation "  is,  of 
course,  that  employed  by  irrational  beings  and  by 
rational  ones,  too,  when  they  do  not  use  their  reason. 
The  "  indirect  method  "  is  the  method  of  reason,  and 
is  teleological.  The  nature  and  use  of  this  method 
were  set  forth  somewhat  fully.  Notwithstanding 
all  this  and  the  stress  laid  throughout  the  work  on 
this  important  antithesis,  I  still  had  reason  to  feel 
that  I  had  fallen  far  short  of  impressing  students 
of  society  with  a  full  sense  that  there  was  a  great 
neglected  factor  in  the  current  social  philosophy,  and 

1  Dynamic  Sociology,  Vol.  I.,  pp.  57,  58, 


CHAP.  XI  INDIVIDUAL    TELE  SIS  237 

in  1884  I  prepared  a  paper  on  "Mind  as  a  Social 
Factor,"  which,  after  reading  it  before  the  Anthro- 
pological Society  of  Washington  and  the  Metaphysi- 
cal Club  of  Johns  Hopkins  University,  I  contributed 
to  the  British  psychological  journal,  Mind.^  In  this 
paper  I  attacked  the  problem  in  a  somewhat  popular 
way,  directing  it  more  or  less  against  the  school  of 
laissez  /aire  philosophers,  but  bringing  out  certain 
aspects  in  a  different  light  from  that  in  which  they 
had  previously  been  viewed. 

I  continued  to  reflect  upon  the  subject,  and  its 
importance  grew  as  its  varied  applications  and  im- 
plications became  apparent.  At  last  I  decided  to 
devote  an  entire  volume  to  its  full  elucidation,  and 
my  Psychic  Factors  of  Civilization,  which  appeared 
in  1893,  was  the  result.  In  this  work  I  have  passed 
in  review  the  entire  philosophy  of  mind  and  joined 
this  to  that  of  society.  It  is  in  chap,  xxxiii.  that  I 
have  brought  forward  the  principal  considerations 
that  should  occupy  this  chapter.  These  I  shall  now 
endeavor  to  epitomize  as  comports  with  the  limits 
which  the  chapter  imposes. 

Telic  progress,  as  the  name  implies,  depends  alto- 
gether upon  that  faculty  of  mind  which  enables  man 
to  pursue  ends  which  it  foresees  and  judges  to  be 
advantageous.  A  clear  idea  must  therefore  be 
formed  of  the  precise  nature  of  that  faculty  before 
it  is  possible  fully  to  understand  how  it  operates. 
After  all  I  liad  said  in  Psychic  Factors  in  the  direc- 
1  Vol.  IX.,  London,  October,  1884,  pp.  663-573. 


238  SOCIAL  SCIENCE  part  ii 

tion  of  explaining  the  origin  and  nature  of  that 
faculty,  which,  so  far  as  I  am  aware,  was  the  first 
attempt  that  had  been  made  to  explain  these  on 
wholly  natural  principles,  I  still  felt  that  there  was 
more  to  be  said,  z.g.,  that  there  was  another  way  of 
approaching  the  subject  and  leading  up  to  the  same 
result,  which  for  certain  types  of  mind  might  render 
the  explanation  still  clearer.  I  reflected  a  year  on 
this  new  mode  of  treatment,  and  then  undertook  to 
formulate  it.^ 

My  purpose  in  this  new  pugillus  was  to  arrive  at 
the  exact  nature  of  final  causes,  as  the  result  of  a 
long  series  of  cosmic  steps  in  the  direction  of  ren- 
dering the  forces  of  nature  and  the  properties  of 
matter  more  efficient  in  accomplishing  results  or 
doing  work.  These  several  evolutionary  steps  were 
shown  to  have  been  taken  by  the  production  of  as 
many  successively  more  and  more  energetic  prod- 
ucts, whose  respective  forms  of  energy  are  repre- 
sented by  their  properties,  and  which  by  the 
different  activities  manifested,  produce  different 
classes  of  phenomena  and  constitute  different  kinds 
of  causes  producing  effects  in  different  degrees. 
The  following  table  was  drawn  up  to  exhibit  all 
these  aspects  of  the  subject:  — 

1  "The  Natural  Storage  of  Energy,"  the  Monist,  Vol.  V.,  Chi- 
cago, January,  1895,  pp.  247-263. 


CHAP.  XI 


INDIVIDUAL    TELESIS 


239 


PRODUCTS 

DIFFERENTIAL  ATTRIBUTES 

PEOPEBTIK8 

ACTIVITIES 

PHKNOMKNA 

CAUSES 

Man 

Animals 

Plants 1 

Protoplasm  .     .     .     .  j 
Organic  Compounds  .  ' 
Inorganic  Compounds 
Chemical  Elements    .  . 
Universal  Ether     .     . 

Intellect 
Feeling 

Life 

Elective 
Affinities 

Wave 
Motion     . 

1 
J 

Molar     . 

Molecu- 
lar 

Psychic 

Vital 

Physical 

Final 
Conative 

Efficient 

This  table  results  from  an  attempt  "  to  arrange 
these  several  products  of  evolution  in  their  ascend- 
ing order  of  development,  assigning  to  each  the  par- 
ticular property  by  which  it  is  distinguished  from 
all  below  it,"  and  to  exhibit  in  the  remaining  three 
columns  the  kind  of  activities  belonging  to  each 
product,  the  class  of  phenomena  it  manifests,  and 
the  nature  of  the  cause  through  which  it  produces 
effects.  "  The  universal  ether  is  placed  at  the  bot- 
tom of  the  scale  as  representing  the  most  diffuse 
form  of  matter  with  the  least  power,  when  not  con- 
centrated, of  producing  effects.  Next  come  the 
chemical  elements,  which  form  a  class,  although  they 
might  themselves  be  arranged  in  an  ascending  series. 
The  inorganic  compounds  naturally  follow  the  ele- 
ments, and  the  same  remark  applies  to  them.  The 
organic  compounds  differ  from  the  inorganic  still 
less  than  the  latter  differ  from   the   elements,  but 


240  SOCIAL  SCIENCE  part  11 

they  belong  above  them,  and  like  them,  only  to  a 
still  greater  degree,  exhibit  gradations  in  efficiency. 
Protoplasm  is  their  highest  expression  and  spans  the 
chasm  between  the  chemical  and  the  biotic  planes  of 
existence.  It  makes  the  plant  possible  and  prepares 
the  way  for  the  animal.  At  the  head  of  the  animal 
series  and  of  the  entire  system  stands  man." 

Leaving  out  of  view  the  physical,  chemical,  and 
purely  biological  aspects  of  the  question  as  leading 
up  to  the  psychic  products  and  properties,  I  will 
confine  myself  to  these  latter,  in  presenting  which  I 
cannot  do  better  than  to  quote  from  that  article :  — 

As  already  remarked,  chemical  organization  ceased  and 
biotic  organization  began  with  protoplasm.  It  is  the  only 
vital  and  psychic  substance,  the  true  life-  and  mind-stuff, 
and  all  further  progress  in  focalizing  and  utilizing  the 
universal  energy  has  resulted  from  the  organization  of 
protoplasm  so  as  to  multiply  its  power.  This  has  con- 
sisted in  a  series  of  mechanical  adjustments.  In  the 
organic  world  protoplasm  is  the  power  while  structure  is 
the  gearing  which  concentrates  that  power.  Although 
protoplasm  exists  in  every  cell,  the  main  lines  through 
which  it  works  are  the  nerves,  which,  in  the  higher 
organisms,  consist  of  large  trunks  with  numerous  local 
reservoirs  and  innumerable  branches  permeating  all  sen- 
sitive tissues. 

In  order  that  sensibility  accomplish  its  purpose,  the 
preservation  of  the  organism,  sensations  must  be  either 
agreeable  or  disagreeable ;  hence  pleasure  and  pain.  The 
instability  of  protoplasm  renders  every  part  ephemeral. 
The  entire  organism  is  in  a  state  of  constant  and  rapid 
change  of  substance  (metabolism),  and  fresh  supplies 


CHAP.  XI  INDIVIDUAL    TELESIS  24I 

must  be  momentarily  introduced  to  prevent  destruction 
by  waste.  The  biological  principle  of  advantage  is  ade- 
quate to  secure  this  end.  The  supply  of  tissue  is  attended 
with  pleasure  and  the  actions  necessary  thereto  follow 
naturally.  The  same  is  true  of  reproduction,  which  a 
study  of  the  lowest  organisms  shows  to  be  theoretically 
only  a  form  of  nutrition.  The  origin  of  pain  is  even 
simpler.  The  destruction  of  tissues  results  in  pain  and 
the  actions  necessary  to  prevent  it  also  follow  naturally. 

Pleasures  and  pains  once  experienced  are  remembered, 
i.e.,  they  are  represented  when  not  present,  and  there 
arises  a  disposition  to  repeat  the  former  and  to  avoid  a 
repetition  of  the  latter.  This  is  desire,  and  it  becomes 
the  prime  motive  to  action.  The  organism  necessarily 
acts  in  obedience  to  desire,  or  if  there  be  several  desires 
that  interfere  with  one  another,  it  acts  in  the  direction  of 
their  resultant.  Hence  the  conative  faculty,  or  will  so 
called. 

Up  to  and  including  this  stage  the  cause  of  all  activity 
is  generically  the  same.  It  is  the  efficient  cause,  the  vis 
a  tergo.  Motive  must  be  distinguished  from  purpose. 
Desire  and  will  are  simply  motive.  It  is  a  natural  force 
and  does  not  differ  except  in  degree  of  complication  from 
any  purely  mechanical  or  physical  force.  But  evolution 
has  gone  on  to  another  stage.  In  much  the  same  way  as, 
by  adopting  a  new  method,  it  passed  from  chemical  to 
biotic  organization,  it  has,  by  making  another  new  depart- 
ure, passed  from  genetic  to  telic  causation. 

The  direction  of  progress  was  seen  at  the  outset  to  be 
toward  the  greater  concentration  of  cosmic  energy,  toward 
making  the  universal  force,  whose  quantity  cannot  change, 
perform  more  work.  This  law  continues  in  operation  to 
the  last.  Telic  causation  is  only  another  way  of  accom- 
plishing this  end.  Just  as  biotic  organization  was  called 
in  where  chemical  organization  could  go  no  farther,  so 


242  SOCIAL  SCIENCE  PART  ii 

teleology  is  resorted  to  at  the  point  where  genesis  ceases 
to  be  effective.  In  the  last  stages  before  this  point  is 
reached  the  chief  agent  in  nature  is  will,  but,  as  already- 
stated,  its  action  is  direct,  the  same  as  mere  force  in  any 
other  form.  The  new  agent  differs  primarily  from  all 
others  in  being  indirect.  The  essential  characteristic  of 
the  final  cause  is  indirection. 

It  is  a  common  figure  to  represent  any  force  as  blind. 
The  conative  force  is  still  more  frequently  so  character- 
ized. Desire  sees  no  obstacles.  Love  is  blind  and  blind 
impulse  rules  the  lower  world.  But  while  results  are 
accomplished  by  this  direct  method  according  to  the  in- 
tensity of  the  impulse  and  the  strength  of  the  organism, 
it  is  evident  that  there  is  a  limit  to  the  achievements  of 
will.  Desire  must  go  unsatisfied  if  its  object  cannot  be 
attained  within  this  limit  of  physical  strength.  With 
the  advance  of  biotic  organization  desire  increases  more 
rapidly  than  does  the  power  to  overcome  obstacles,  and 
the  number  and  magnitude  of  the  obstacles  to  the  attain- 
ment of  desired  ends  thus  rapidly  increase.  Any  new 
advance  must  look  to  overcoming  these  difficulties  and  to 
clearing  the  way  for  the  accomplishment  of  higher  results. 
Still  again,  the  biological  law  of  advantage  comes  forward. 
The  new  device  is  the  final  cause.  It  consists  of  a  mechan- 
ism for  the  utilization  of  force  that  is  running  to  waste, 
and  in  this  respect  the  economic  principle  of  all  evolu- 
tionary progress  is  employed,  but  the  application  of  this 
principle  is  wholly  unlike  any  hitherto  made. 

The  conative  power  was  seen  to  reside  in  an  organized 
nervous  system  with  an  increasing  integration  of  its  parts 
in  subordination  to  a  general  directive  center,  the  brain. 
The  physical  progress  continued  to  all  outward  appear- 
ances unchanged  except  in  degree  in  passing  from  the 
conative  state  which  is  genetic  into  the  noetic  state 
which  is  telic,  but  by  insensible  degrees  a  new  psychic 


CHAP.  XI  INDIVIDUAL    TELE  SIS  243 

faculty  was  evolved.  This  new  psycliic  faculty  in  its 
developed  state  is  called  the  intellect,  but  it  had  its  nas- 
cent and  inchoate  stages,  which,  though  the  same  in 
essence,  scarcely  deserve  that  name.  The  name,  how- 
ever, is  unimportant.  It  is  only  needful  to  understand 
its  nature. 

Its  physical  nature  may  be  safely  said  to  be  unknown. 
A  theory  is  that  there  takes  place  within  the  substance 
of  the  brain  a  miniature  reproduction  of  the  entire  pano- 
rama displayed  by  the  external  world  to  the  organs  of 
special  sense,  which  register  all  impressions  and  preserve 
them  for  future  comparison  and  use.  The  mind  itself 
thus  actually /ee?s,  or,  as  it  were,  sees,  not  only  all  that  is 
presented  to  the  senses  but  all  that  has  been  so  presented 
in  the  past,  or  so  much  of  it  as  it  has  the  power  to  retain. 
The  simultaneous  felt  presence  of  so  many  impressions 
renders  it  possible  to  make  comparisons  and  recognize 
differences  and  samenesses.  It  thus  declares  agreements 
and  disagreements,  which  constitute  the  basis  of  all 
thought.  Agreement  of  wholes  is  identity,  agreement  of 
parts  is  similarity.  These  are  the  fundamental  relations, 
but  there  are  many  kinds  of  relations,  and  the  intellectual 
process  per  se  is  the  j)erception  of  relations. 

How,  then,  does  this  simple  faculty  of  perceiving  rela- 
tions become  a  new  power  in  the  world  for  the  storage 
and  us(;  of  the  universal  energy  ?  What  is  the  precise 
form  of  indirection  that  so  greatly  multiplies  the  effect 
produced?  Is  there  anything  essentially  new  in  the 
nature  of  the  force  constituting  a  final  cause  ?  To  the 
last  of  these  questions  a  negative  answer  must  be  given. 
There  is  only  one  yenus  of  cause  in  the  sense  of  a  force, 
and  that  is  the  direct  impact.  The  difference  between 
efficient  and  final  causes  must  be  sought  in  the  mode  of 
their  application.  While  the  final  cause,  as  its  name  im- 
plies, is  inspired  by  an  end  in  view,  it  is  in  reality  not 


244  SOCIAL  SCIENCE  part  ir 

directed  toward  that  end.  In  mere  motive  or  will,  un- 
aided by  the  intuitive  faculty,  the  force  of  the  organism 
is  so  directed,  but  for  want  of  this  faculty  it  may  fail  to 
attain  it.  The  telic  power  differs  essentially  from  the 
conative  power  in  being  directed  not  to  the  end  but  to 
some  means  to  the  end.  Intelligence  works  exclusively 
through  means,  and  only  in  so  far  as  it  does  this  does  it 
employ  the  final  cause.  Instead  of  seeking  the  thing 
desired  it  seeks  some  other  thing,  unimportant  in  itself, 
whose  attainment  it  perceives  will  secure  the  thing  de- 
sired. This  is  the  essence  of  intellectual  action  and  all 
that  constitutes  a  final  cause.  It  is  the  process  of  con- 
verting means  into  ends.  It  thus  becomes  necessary  that 
the  means  be  desired,  otherwise  there  is  no  force  for  the 
accomplishment  of  results.  So  far  as  the  pursuit  of  the 
means  is  concerned  the  action  is  purely  conative  and  does 
not  differ  from  that  which  pursues  the  end  directly.  The 
whole  difference  consists  in  the  knowledge  that  the  end 
will  follow  upon  the  means.  A  final  cause,  therefore, 
stripped  of  its  manifold  concomitants  which  so  obscure 
its  true  nature,  consists  in  the  pure  intellectual  perception 
that  a  certain  end  is  attainable  through  a  certain  means. 
But  this  is  simply  saying  that  in  and  of  itself  it  is  not  a 
cause  at  all.  Knowledge  is  merely  a  guide  to  action. 
Intellect  is  a  directive  agent  and  can  no  more  be  called 
the  cause  of  the  result  accomplished  than  the  rudder  can 
be  called  the  cause  of  the  progress  of  a  boat. 

There  are  all  degrees  in  the  amount  of  indirection  in- 
volved in  teleological  action,  from  a  mere  detour  necessary 
to  avoid  an  obstacle  to  the  highest  feats  of  engineering, 
in  which  each  separate  part,  say,  of  a  Ferris  wheel,  must 
be  wrought  and  put  together  to  make  the  perfect  structure 
which  exists  in  the  mind  before  the  first  step  is  taken. 
In  this  latter  illustration  every  effort  put  forth  from  the 
beginning  to  the.  end  is  a  direct  conative  act  applied  to  a 


CHAP.  XI  INDIVIDUAL    TELE  SIS  245 

means.  But  the  work  as  a  whole  is  telic,  the  end  being 
constantly  in  view.  And  such  is  the  nature  of  the  entire 
course  of  material  progress  achieved  by  man.  It  is  by 
this  that  he  is  primarily  distinguished  from  the  rest  of 
nature.  The  human  intellect  is  the  great  source  of  telic 
activity.  The  works  of  man  are  the  only  ones  with 
which  we  are  acquainted  that  proceed  in  any  consider- 
able degree  from  final  causes.  But  if  there  be  any  other 
source  of  final  causes,  the  process  must  always  be  the 
same  —  efficient  causes  applied  to  means. 

It  was  observed  at  the  outset  that  in  the  case  of  genetic 
phenomena,  i.e.,  of  efficient  causes,  the  effect,  if  the  im- 
pinging bodies  are  inert,  is  always  exactly  equal  to  the 
cause.  This  is  also  true  of  final  causes,  so  far  as  their 
action  upon  the  means  is  concerned,  but  the  final  effect, 
if  it  can  be  so  called,  is  usually  much  greater  than  the 
cause  or  effort  expended.  Wherein  consists  this  differ- 
ence ?  How  has  the  force  exerted  acquired  this  increased 
efficiency  ?  The  answer  is  easy.  The  final  cause  is  the 
mind's  knowledge  of  the  relations  that  subsist  between 
the  means  and  the  end.  But  the  chief  of  these  relations, 
and  the  only  practical  one,  is  the  action  of  other  natural 
forces  outside  of  the  agent's  will-power  or  muscular 
strength.  What  the  mind  sees  is  that  such  forces  exist 
and  are  operating  in  certain  directions.  What  the  intel- 
ligent agent  does  is  to  place  the  thing  he  desires  but  lacks 
the  power  to  move  into  the  current  of  such  a  force  which 
moves  it  for  him.  This  is  the  type  of  teleological  action. 
It  is  illustrated  in  its  simplest  form  by  the  lumberman 
who  puts  his  logs  into  the  river  and  lets  the  current  float 
them  to  their  destination.  But  the  most  complicated 
cases  may,  by  proper  analysis,  be  reduced  to  this  simple 
principle.  Teleology  is  essentially  the  utilization  of 
natural  forces,  causing  them  to  do  what  the  agent  per- 
ceives to  be  useful  and  wills  to  be  done.     The  applications 


246  SOCIAL   SCIENCE  part  ii 

of  wind,  water,  steam,  and  electricity  are  this  and  nothing 
else.  All  machinery  falls  into  the  same  class.  Civiliza- 
tion in  all  its  material  aspects  is  but  the  expression  of 
this  truth. 

I  have  dwelt  thus  at  length  upon  the  mind  side 
of  the  general  principle  of  telic  progress  because  I 
consider  it  to  be  the  most  important  principle  in 
the  whole  domain  of  social  science,  almost  entirely 
neglected  hitherto,  and  because  it  is  essentially  a 
psychological  principle  which  cannot  be  understood 
in  its  sociological  aspects  until  its  psychological 
aspects  are  firmly  grasped. 

It  is  here  that  the  principles  laid  down  in  the 
eighth  chapter  find  their  application.  It  is  not  pro- 
posed to  restate  these  principles,  but  as  they  lie  at 
the  very  foundation  of  all  social  progress,  they  re- 
quire some  further  illustration  than  was  there  given. 
Indirection  was  classified  under  two  heads,  moral 
and  physical,  both  of  which,  but  especially  the 
second,  require  fuller  treatment. 

Following  out  the  line  of  the  first  of  these  classes 
of  actions,  viz.,  those  expended  upon  sentient  be- 
ings, we  find  that  the  intellect,  as  the  repository  of 
the  telic  force,  first  subjugates  the  animal  kingdom 
and  brings  it  under  the  power  of  man  so  that  he  can 
make  any  use  of  it  that  he  pleases  ;  then  it  exerts 
itself  upon  men,  and  one  man  or  class  of  men  seeks 
to  render  other  men  subservient  to  self.  Both  of 
these  operations  involve  deception.  The  general 
term  for  the  form  of   deception   practised  on  ani- 


CHAP.  XI  INDIVIDUAL    TELE  SIS  247 

mals  is  cmining.  The  cruder  efforts  to  make  one 
man  serve  another  go  by  the  same  name,  but  the 
higher  and  more  refined  methods  of  the  intellect 
are  called  tact,  shrewdness,  strategy,  and  diplomacy. 
In  every  case  it  is  a  form  of  deception. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  the  intellect  or  telic 
power  was  developed  as  an  aid  to  the  will  for  the 
better  satisfaction  of  desire.  But  for  its  value  as 
such  it  could  not  have  come  into  existence  under  the 
biologic  law  of  advantage.  It  is  as  much  a  product 
of  that  law  as  any  useful  organ  in  an  animal  or  a 
plant.  Its  supreme  utility  accounts  for  its  rapid 
development,  and  for  the  fact  that  the  race  in  which 
it  first  appeared  in  a  marked  degree  soon  gained  an 
ascendency  over  all  other  races.  The  lower  king- 
dom became  an  easy  prey,  but  when  mind  became 
pitted  against  mind,  and  the  great  battle  of  the 
giants  began,  higher  and  higher  generalship  was 
developed  until  there  was  produced  what  we  com- 
monly call  the  competitive  system  on  which  modern 
society  rests. 

I  have  been  in  the  habit  of  characterizing  the  telic 
or  intellectual  process  or  principle,  as  I  have  endeav- 
ored to  define  it,  as  the  law  of  mind,  in  contradis- 
tinction to  the  process  or  principle  according  to 
which  evolution  in  general  takes  place,  which  I  call 
the  law  of  nature.  I  do  not  mean  by  this  to  say 
that  the  law  of  mind  is  not  also  a  natui'al  law,  but  it 
certainly  is  utterly  unlike  the  otlier  law,  and  as  it 
came  forward  at  a  late  stage  in  the  history  of  cosmic 


248  SOCIAL  SCIENCE  part  ii 

evolution,  it  seems  to  have  inaugurated  a  wholly  new- 
order  of  things.  Schopenhauer  declares  that  the 
intellect,  as  contrasted  with  the  eternal  and  uni- 
versal will,  is  an  "  accident,"  and  there  is  a  certain 
amount  of  truth  in  this  statement.  Although,  like 
all  the  rest  of  the  extra-normal  products  of  nature, 
some  of  which  have  been  enumerated  in  previous 
chapters,  it  had  a  natural  origin  and  was  brought 
forth  as  a  means  of  advancing  nature's  ends,  still, 
like  them,  when  once  created  it  soon  cut  loose  from 
its  original  attachments  and  entered  upon  a  career 
of  its  own,  independent  of,  and  to  a  considerable 
extent  antagonistic  to,  its  primary  purposes.  Not 
only  did  this  faculty  early  become  the  champion  of 
feeling  as  against  function,  until  to-day  it  threatens 
the  depopulation  of  the  globe,  but  from  the  outset 
it  took  it  upon  itself  to  counteract  the  law  of  nature 
and  to  oppose  to  the  competitive  system,  that  com- 
pletely dominates  the  lower  world  and  still  so  largely 
prevails  in  human  society,  a  wholly  different  system 
based  on  rational  cooperation.  In  dealing  with  the 
animal  world  the  law  of  nature  is  replaced  by  that 
of  reason  in  destroying  the  feral  tendencies  and  sub- 
stituting complete  submission  to  man's  will  —  in  a 
word,  by  domestication.  In  this  state  the  equilib- 
rium previously  existing  between  the  organism  and 
the  environment  is  destroyed,  and  even  the  colors 
of  the  fur  and  feather  are  changed.  But  these  are 
not  the  most  important  changes.  By  a  process  of 
artificial  selection,  which  supplants  that  of  natural 


CHAP.  XI  INDIVIDUAL    TELESIS  249 

selection,  those  qualities  which  are  most  useful  to 
man  are  rendered  more  and  more  prominent  until 
most  domestic  animals  undergo  profound  physical 
modifications  in  the  direction  of  utility.  These 
modifications  are  not  always  also  in  the  direction 
of  greater  structural  perfection  so  as  to  be  in  the 
line  of  natural  evolution,  but  so  far  as  the  particular 
qualities  selected  are  concerned  they  usually  are  so, 
and  in  many  cases  careful  breeding  improves  the 
whole  animal,  so  that  man  becomes  a  powerful  ally 
of  evolution  itself.  This  is  not  disproved  by  the 
fact,  upon  which  so  much  stress  has  been  laid  by 
certain  biologists,  that  such  improved  races  usually 
revert  more  or  less  to  their  original  condition  when 
human  influence  is  withdrawn.  On  the  contrary, 
this  fact  establishes  another  law  of  biology,  viz., 
that  natural  selection  does  not  secure  the  survival 
of  the  fittest  in  the  struggle  for  existence.  It 
merely  fixes  the  exact  position  which  each  species 
is  capable  of  holding  in  the  general  competition. 
This  is  always  far  below  what  it  might  attain  if 
competition  were  removed.  Exactly  what  man  docs 
is  to  remove  this  competition,  and  the  immense 
progress  that  every  species  makes  is  shown  in  the 
improvement  of  the  stock  under  man's  intelligent 
care. 

Considering  next  the  effect  of  tlio  telic  power 
directed  to  the  vegetalde  kingdom  we  perceive  that 
substantially  the  same  results  have  attended  it. 
These  are  even  more  important  here,  for  they  in- 


250  SOCIAL   SCIENCE  part  il 

volve  nothing  less  than  the  whole  range  of  agri- 
culture and  horticulture.  These  prime  sources  of 
social  existence  are  altogether  due  to  the  working 
of  the  intellect  upon  the  laws  of  vegetable  life. 
One  of  the  first  manifestations  and  essential  charac- 
teristics of  the  telic  faculty  is  foresight,  or  the  power 
to  "  look  before  "  as  well  as  after.  Upon  this,  more 
than  any  other,  agriculture  depends,  since  the  seed 
could  only  be  sown  in  anticipation  of  the  harvest, 
which  is  a  future  event. 

In  the  vegetable  kingdom,  even  more  clearly  than 
in  the  animal,  is  the  truth  apparent,  to  which  atten- 
tion was  drawn,  that  the  effect  of  human  telesis  is  to 
improve  the  quality  of  the  plants  selected  for  culti- 
vation. In  the  case  of  the  cereals,  for  example,  it 
is  clear  that  this  improvement  is  in  the  direction  of 
a  general  structural  advance.  In  fact  it  was  through 
the  study  of  plants  that  the  principles  I  have  here 
stated  were  first  brought  home  to  me.  I  made  an 
attempt  to  formulate  them  over  twenty  years  ago, 
and  in  the  following  words  :  — 

There  is  no  .  .  .  necessary  correspondence  .  .  .  be- 
tween organism  and  habitat,  no  .  .  .  necessary  .  .  .  har- 
mony between  species  and  environment.  This  need  only 
exist  so  far  as  is  necessary  to  render  the  life  of  the 
species  possible.  Beyond  this  the  greatest  inharmony 
and  inadaptation  may  be  conceived  to  reign  in  nature. 
Each  plant  may  be  regarded  as  a  reservoir  of  vital  force, 
as  containing  within  it  a  potential  energy  far  beyond  and 
wholly  out  of  consonance  with  the  contracted  conditions 
imposed  upon  it  by  its  environment,  and  by  which  it  is 


CHAP.  XI  INDIVIDUAL    TELE  SIS  25 1 

compelled  to  possess  the  comparatively  imperfect  organ- 
ization with  which  we  find  it  endowed.  Each  individual 
is  where  it  is,  and  what  it  is,  by  reason  of  the  combined 
forces  which  hedge  it  in  and  determine  its  very  form.^ 

Recurring  to  the  subject  in  1886,  I  quoted  this 
paragraph  from  the  older  paper  and  added  :  — 

Since  these  words  were  written  this  principle  has  been 
widely  recognized  by  botanists.  It  is  now  known  that 
the  plants  of  every  region  possess  the  potency  of  a  far 
higher  life  than  they  enjoy,  and  that  they  are  prevented 
from  attaining  that  higher  state  by  the  adverse  influences 
that  surround  them  in  their  normal  habitat.  The  singling 
out  of  certain  species  by  man,  and  their  development 
through  his  care  into  far  higher  and  more  perfect  forms 
to  supply  his  needs,  both  physical  and  aesthetic,  further 
demonstrate  this  law.  Man  gives  these  plants  a  new  and 
artificial  environment  favorable  to  their  higher  develop- 
ment, and  they  develop  accordingly.  In  a  word,  he  gives 
them  opportunity  to  progress,  and  they  progress  by  in- 
herent powers  with  which  all  plants  are  endowed.  Once, 
when  herbarizing  in  a  rather  wild,  neglected  spot,  I  col- 
lected a  little  depauperate  grass  that  for  a  time  greatly 
puzzled  me,  but  which  upon  analysis  proved  to  be  none 
other  than  genuine  wheat.  It  had  been  accidentally  sown 
in  this  abandoned  nook,  where  it  had  been  obliged  to 
struggle  for  existence  along  Avith  the  remaining  vegeta- 
tion. There  it  had  grown  up,  and  sought  to  rise  into  that 
majesty  and  beauty  that  is  seen  in  a  field  of  waving  grain. 
]iut  at  every  stej)  it  had  felt  the  resistance  of  an  environ- 
ment no  longer  rcgidated  by  intelligence.  It  missed  the 
fostering  care  of  man,  who  destroys  competition,  removes 

1  Popular  Science  Monthly,  Vol.  IX.,  Now  York,  October,  1876, 
p.  682. 


252  SOCIAL  SCIENCE  part  n 

enemies,  and  creates  conditions  favorable  to  the  highest 
development.  This  is  called  cultivation,  and  the  differ- 
ence between  my  little  starveling  grass  and  the  wheat  of 
the  well-tilled  field  is  a  difference  of  cultivation  only,  and 
not  at  all  of  capacity.  I  could  adduce  any  number  of 
similar  examples  from  the  vegetable  kingdom.^ 

I  now  reaffirm  this  principle,  which  has  not  been 
challenged,  and  assign  it  to  its  proper  place  in  a 
system  of  sociology  as  one  of  the  leading  contribu- 
tions of  biology  to  that  science. 

It  remains  to  consider  the  effect  of  the  exercise  of 
the  telic  faculty  upon  the  physical  world.  Much  has 
already  been  said  on  this  point.  In  the  domain  of 
plant  life  we  were  already  beyond  the  range  of  feel- 
ing and  out  of  the  moral  world.  In  the  domain  of 
non-living  matter  we  are  no  longer  fettered  by  the 
complicated  and  subtle  laws  of  life.  The  work  of 
molding  such  products  is  therefore  much  simpler, 
but,  as  already  remarked,  the  principle  is  the  same. 
It  is  remarkable,  when  we  reflect  upon  it,  how  easily 
nature  is  managed  by  intelligence.  We  have  perfect 
passivity  combined  with  absolutely  uniform  laws. 
It  is  only  necessary  to  know  the  nature  of  matter 
and  the  laws  according  to  which  physical  phenomena 
take  place.  As  Comte  insists,  we  need  not  know 
the  causes  of  things,  but  only  their  laws.  We  need 
not  ask  the  question  wTiy^  but  only  the  question  how. 
This  question  was  early  asked  and,  for  the  simpler 
laws  of  matter,  was  correctly  answered. 

1  The  Forum,  Vol.  II.,  New  York,  December,  1886,  p.  348. 


CHAP.  XI  INDIVIDUAL    TELE  SIS  253 

Probably  the  first  inventions  were  tools.  Man  is 
a  tool-employing  animal.  Few  have  ever  reflected 
that  no  animal  ever  uses  tools,  much  less  makes 
them.  It  is  not  proved  that  the  most  sagacious 
creatures  ever  increase  their  power  to  do  anything 
by  the  aid  of  inanimate  bodies  within  their  reach, 
such  as  sticks  or  stones.  They  work  ujpon  such 
objects  but  they  do  not  work  with  them.  This  is 
because  a  higher  telic  power  is  required  in  doing 
this  than  they  possess.  They  are  unable  to  see  that 
the  use  of  a  club  wielded,  as  by  an  ape,  with  the 
hand  would  greatly  increase  the  force  of  a  blow 
they  might  wish  to  inflict  upon  an  enemy.  Alleged 
cases  of  such  action  may  be  found  in  the  books,  but, 
so  far  as  I  am  aware,  none  of  them  are  authentic. 
Still,  if  such  cases  have  been  observed,  this  simply 
denotes  that  there  are  creatures  below  man  that 
possess  the  rudiments  of  a  telic  faculty  —  an  incipient 
intellect  —  and  this  I  am  not  disposed  to  dispute. 
Tools  were  among  man's  first  necessities,  perhaps 
primarily  as  weapons  of  defence,  but  also  as  means 
of  obtaining  subsistence.  Clothing  and  shelter  even 
of  the  simplest  kind  could  scarcely  be  obtained  with- 
out them,  agriculture  was  well-nigh  impossible  in 
their  absence,  and  every  form  of  art  presupposes  the 
means  of  modifying  and  transforming  matei-ial  sub- 
stances. But  not  only  in  the  manufacture  of  the 
tool  but  in  its  use,  either  in  manufacturing  other 
useful  things  or  in  carrying  on  any  of  the  arts  of 
life,  the  telic  faculty  is  brought  into  requisition. 


254  SOCIAL  SCIENCE  part  n 

The  sociological  significance  of  all  this  lies  in  the 
corollary  that  only  a  rational  being  can  practise 
economy.  There  is  no  true  economy  in  the  opera- 
tion of  the  law  of  nature.  It  is  a  sort  of  trial-and- 
error  process  and  involves  enormous  waste.  I  have 
endeavored  to  formulate  what  may  be  called  the  law 
of  biologic  economics,  with  the  result  that  while 
"  every  creation  of  organic  nature  has  within  it  the 
possibility  of  success,"  that  success  is  only  secured 
through  the  "multiplication  of  chances." ^ 

True  economy,  on  the  contrary,  is  necessarily  telic. 
Instead  of  going  in  all  directions  for  the  sake  of 
being  sure  of  ultimately  finding  the  one  only  advan- 
tageous direction,  it  first  looks  over  the  ground,  dis- 
covers the  desired  path,  and  pursues  that  and  no 
other.  This  saves  the  expense  of  trying  to  go  in  all 
the  impossible  directions  with  the  resultant  failure. 
Yet  this  last  is  nature's  method.  Not  only  must  we 
conceive  the  effort  as  proceeding  from  the  centre  of 
a  circle,  but  we  must  usually  conceive  it  as  proceed- 
ing from  the  centre  of  a  sphere.  This 'is  the  prin- 
ciple that  underlies  the  paradox  upon  which  I  have 
so  often  insisted  that  the  artificial  is  superior  to  the 
natural. 2  At  a  later  date  the  principle  was  more 
fully  expanded  in  the  following  form  :  — 

A  closer  analysis  shows  that  the  fundamental  distinc- 
tion between  the  animal  and  the  human  method  is  that 

1  Psychic  Factors,  p.  250. 

2  Amei'ican  Anthropologist,  Vol.  II.,  Washington,  April,  1889, 
p.  121. 


CHAP.  XI  INDIVIDUAL    TELE  SIS  2$$ 

the  environment  transforms  the  animal  zvhile  man  trans- 
forms the  environment.  This  proposition  holds  literally 
almost  without  exception  from  whatever  standpoint  it 
be  contemplated.  It  is,  indeed,  the  full  expression  of 
the  fact  above  stated  that  the  tools  of  animals  are  organic 
while  those  of  man  are  mechanical.  But  if  we  contrast 
these  two  methods  from  our  present  standpoint,  which 
is  that  of  economics,  we  see  at  once  the  immense  supe- 
riority of  the  human  over  the  animal  method.  First 
consider  the  economy  of  time.  It  has  taken  much  longer 
to  develop  any  one  of  the  organic  appliances  of  animals, 
whether  for  war  or  industry,  than  is  represented  by  the 
entire  period  during  which  man  has  possessed  any  arts, 
even  the  simplest.  Look  next  at  the  matter  of  efficiency. 
Xot  one  of  the  organic  appliances  has  sufficed  to  enable 
the  species  possessing  it  to  migrate  far  from  the  region 
to  which  it  was  originally  adapted.  Man,  on  the  other 
hand,  without  acquiring  any  new  organic  adaptations, 
but  by  the  invention  of  tools,  l)y  providing  himself  cloth- 
ing and  shelter,  by  artificial  devices  for  capturing  prey, 
and  by  other  ways  of  transforming  his  environment,  has 
placed  himself  in  position  to  occupy  the  whole  earth 
from  the  equator  to  the  arctic  circle,  and  to  become  the 
only  animal  tliat  is  not  restricted  in  its  habitat. 

Every  implement  of  human  design  is  calculated  to 
take  advantage  of  some  mechanical  principle  through 
which  the  muscular  force  necessary  to  be  exerted  is  less 
for  any  given  result  accomplished  than  it  would  be  with- 
out such  im])lement.  In  most  cases  it  is  many  times 
loss,  but  in  the  great  majority  of  cases  no  result  could 
lie  ])roduced  at  all  without  tlie  implement.  Machines 
are  simply  more  effective  tools,  and  it  is  tlirough  tools 
and  machinery  that  the  arts  have  been  established.  The 
utter  helplessness  of  man  witliout  tlie  arts  is  well  illus- 
trated by  l)e  Foe  in  Robinson  Crusoe,  and  yet  in  order 


256  SOCIAL   SCIENCE  part  il 

to  enable  him  to  survive  at  all,  even  in  a  tropical  climate 
where  nature's  productions  were  exuberant,  he  must  pro- 
vide himself  from  the  stores  of  the  wrecked  vessel  with 
a  considerable  supply  of  tools  and  other  artificial  appli- 
ances. What  was  true  of  Robinson  Crusoe  thus  circum- 
stanced, is  much  more  true  of  the  great  majority  of 
mankind  who  inhabit  what  we  call  temperate  climates, 
i.e.,  climates  in  which  the  temperature  sometimes  falls 
ten  or  twenty  degrees  below  the  freezing  point.  One 
winter  without  art  would  suffice  to  sweep  the  whole  popu- 
lation north  or  south  of  the  thirtieth  parallel  of  latitude 
out  of  existence. 

We  are  so  much  accustomed  to  the  terms  Icihor  and 
production  that  we  rarely  stop  to  think  what  they  really 
mean.  Neither  of  these  terms  has  any  place  in  natural 
economics.  All  labor  consists  in  an  artificial  transforma- 
tion of  man's  environment.  Nature  produces  nothing  in 
the  politico-economic  sense  of  the  word.  Production  con- 
sists in  artificially  altering  the  form  of  natural  objects. 
The  clothes  we  wear  are  chiefly  derived  from  the  sheep, 
the  ox,  the  silkworm  and  a  few  other  animals,  the  cotton 
plant,  flax,  hemp,  and  a  few  other  plants ;  but  between 
the  latest  stage  at  which  nature  leaves  these  and  the 
final  form  in  which  they  are  ready  for  use,  the  steps  are 
many  and  the  labor  great.  The  dwellings  man  inhabits 
once  consisted  chiefly  of  trees,  clay,  and  beds  of  solid 
rock.  These  have  been  transformed  by  labor  performed 
with  tools  and  machinery  into  houses.  The  same  is  true 
of  temples  and  of  all  the  other  buildings  that  now  cover 
the  surface  of  the  earth  wherever  man  is  found.  And  so 
the  entire  cycle  of  human  achievement  might  be  gone 
through.  All  these  transformations  are  accomplished 
through  the  arts. 

The  sum  total  of  human  arts  constitutes  man's  material 
civilization,  and  it  is  this  that  chiefly  distinguishes  him 


CHAP.  XI  INDIVIDUAL    TELESIS  257 

from  the  rest  of  nature.  But  tlie  arts  are  the  exclusive 
product  of  mind.  They  are  the  means  through  Avhich 
intelligence  utilizes  the  materials  and  forces  of  nature. 
And  as  all  economics  rests  primarily  on  production,  it 
seems  to  follow  that  a  science  of  economics  must  have  a 
psychological  basis.  In  fact  the  economics  of  mind  and 
the  economics  of  life  are  not  merely  different  but  the 
direct  opposites  of  each  other.  The  psychologic  law 
strives  to  reverse  the  biologic  law.  The  biologic  law 
is  that  of  the  survival  of  structures  best  adapted  to  the 
environment.  Those  structures  that  yield  most  readily 
to  changes  in  the  environment  persist.  It  has  therefore 
been  aptly  called  the  "survival  of  the  plastic."  The 
environment  never  changes  to  conform  to  the  structures 
but  always  the  reverse,  and  the  only  organic  progress 
possible  is  that  which  accrues  through  improvements 
in  structure  tending  to  enable  organic  beings  to  cope 
with  sterner  and  ever  harder  conditions.  In  any  and 
every  case  it  is  the  environment  that  works  the  changes 
and  the  organism  that  undergoes  them. 

But  the  most  important  factor  in  the  environment  of 
any  species  is  its  organic  environment.  The  hardest 
pressure  that  is  brought  to  bear  upon  it  comes  from 
other  living  things  in  the  midst  of  which  it  lives.  Any 
slight  advantage  which  one  species  may  gain  from  a 
favorable  change  of  structure  causes  it  to  multiply  and 
expand,  and  unless  strenuously  resisted,  ultimately  to 
acquire  a  complete  monopoly  of  all  things  that  are 
needed  for  its  support.  Any  other  species  that  con- 
sumes the  same  elements  must,  unless  equally  vigorous, 
soon  be  crowded  out.  This  is  the  true  meaning  of  the 
survival  of  the  fittest.  It  is  essentially  a  process  of  com- 
petition.  The  economics  of  nature  consists  therefore 
essentially  in  the  operation  of  the  law  of  competition 
in  its  purest  form.     The  prevailing  idea,  however,  that 


258  SOCIAL   SCIENCE  part  ii 

it  is  the  fittest  possible  that  survive  in  tliis  struggle  is 
wholly  false.  The  effect  of  competition  is  to  prevent 
any  form  from  attaining  its  maximum  development,  and 
to  maintain  a  certain  comparatively  low  level  for  all 
forms  that  succeed  in  surviving.  This  is  made  clear  by 
the  fact  that  wherever  competition  is  wholly  removed, 
as  through  the  agency  of  man,  in  the  interest  of  any  one 
form,  that  form  immediately  begins  to  make  great  strides 
and  soon  outstrips  all  those  that  depend  upon  competi- 
tion. Such  has  been  the  case  with  all  the  cereals  and 
fruit  trees ;  it  is  the  case  with  domestic  cattle  and  sheep, 
with  horses,  dogs,  and  all  the  forms  of  life  that  man  has 
excepted  from  the  biologic  law  and  subjected  to  the  law 
of  mind,  and  both  the  agricultural  and  the  pastoral  stages 
of  society  rest  upon  the  successful  resistance  which  ra- 
tional man  has  offered  to  the  law  of  nature  in  these 
departments.  So  that  we  have  now  to  add  to  the  waste 
of  competition  its  influence  in  preventing  the  really  fittest 
from  surviving. 

Hard  as  it  seems  to  be  for  modern  philosophers  to 
understand  this,  it  was  one  of  the  first  truths  that  dawned 
upon  the  incipient  mind  of  man.  Consciously  or  uncon- 
sciously, it  was  felt  from  the  very  outset  that  the  mission 
of  mind  was  to  grapple  with  the  law  of  competition  and, 
as  far  as  possible,  to  overcome  and  destroy  it.  This  iron 
law  of  nature,  as  it  may  be  called,  was  everywhere  found 
to  lie  athwart  the  path  of  human  progress,  and  the  whole 
upward  struggle  of  rational  man,  whether  physically, 
socially,  or  morally,  has  been  with  this  tyrant  of  natm-e, 
the  law  of  competition.  And  in  so  far  as  he  has  pro- 
gressed at  all  he  has  done  so  by  gaining,  little  by  little, 
the  mastery  in  this  struggle.  In  the  physical  world  he 
has  accomplished  this  through  invention  from  which 
have  resulted  the  arts.  Every  utensil  of  labor,  every 
mechanical  device,  every  object  of  design,  and  every  arti- 


CHAP.  XI  INDIVIDUAL    TELE  SIS  259 

ficial  form  that  serves  a  human  purpose,  is  a  triumph  of 
mind  over  the  physical  forces  of  nature  in  ceaseless  and 
aimless  competition.  In  the  social  world  it  is  human 
institutions  —  religion,  government,  law,  marriage,  cus- 
toms —  that  have  been  thought  out  and  adopted  to 
restrain  the  iinbridled  individualism  that  has  always 
menaced  society.  And  finally,  the  ethical  code  and  the 
moral  law  are  simply  the  means  employed  by  reason, 
intelligence,  and  refined  sensibility  to  suppress  and  crush 
out  the  animal  nature  of  man.^ 

Such  has  been  the  influence  that  the  telic  faculty 
of  man  has  exerted  in  all  the  great  domains  of  na- 
ture, and  the  general  result  is  what  I  understand  by 
telic  progress.  The  reason  is  therefore  clear  why  it 
is  necessary  to  insist  that  sociology  shall  from  the 
outset  recognize  man  as  a  rational  being  endowed 
with  this  faculty  which  he  has  exercised  from  the 
first  and  continues  to  exercise  more  and  more. 
Thus  far,  however,  it  is  only  the  employment  of  this 
faculty  by  the  individual  that  has  been  considered. 
This  has  sufficed  to  subject  the  law  of  nature  to  the 
law  of  mind  only  for  the  individual.  It  has  not  done 
this  for  society  at  large.  Society  remains  a  prey  to 
the  law  of  nature,  i.e.,  to  the  competitive  r^jgime 
that  prevails  throughout  the  animal  kingdom.  The 
struggle  has  simply  been  raised  to  a  higher  plane  to 

1  "The  Psychologic  Basis  of  Social  Economics."     Address  of 
the  Vice-President  for  the  Section  of  Economic  Science  and  Sta-' 
tistics  of  the  American  Association  for  the  Advancement  of  Sci- 
ence, at  the  Rochester  meeting,  August,  1892,     Proc.  A.  A.  A.  S., 
Vol.  XLI.,  Salem,  1892,  pp.  308-312. 


260  SOCIAL   SCIENCE  part  ll 

go  on  as  fiercely  as  before.  This,  as  we  saw,  does 
not  secure  the  survival  of  the  fittest  except  in  the 
narrow  sense  of  best  adaptation  to  an  adverse  en- 
vironment, which  often,  as  in  parasitism,  involves 
degeneracy.  The  power  to  expand  always  exists  but 
is  checked  by  competition.  Individual  telesis  acting 
upon  inferior  organisms  removes  the  competition, 
and  these  expansive  powers  immediately  assert  them- 
selves, producing  superior  types  of  vegetable  and 
animal  life,  and  making  agriculture  and  stock-raising 
the  chief  sources  of  human  subsistence.  Applied  to 
men,  individual  telesis  has  the  effect  of  creating  arti- 
ficial inequalities.  Obeying  the  law  of  nature,  it 
follows  the  uniform  course  of  that  law  in  producing 
monopoly,  and,  as  among  animals  and  plants,  the 
weaker  are  crowded  out  by  the  stronger  and  the  few 
dominate  the  many.  The  accident  of  position  is  a 
more  potent  influence  here  than  on  the  lower  plane 
and  comes  to  constitute  the  leading  element  of 
strength  and  fitness  to  survive. 

But  it  is  in  its  application  to  inanimate  objects 
and  natural  forces  that  individual  telesis  has  dis- 
played its  chief  power.  The  exercise  of  this  inno- 
cent physical  indirection  has  been  the  mainspring  of 
human  progress.  It  is  not  cunning,  shrewdness, 
strategy,  and  diplomacy,  but  ingenuity  that  has 
inspired  civilization.  The  exercise  of  ingenuity  is 
invention,  and  invention  is  the  basis  of  the  practical 
arts.  The  systematic  search  for  and  discovery  of  the 
natural  properties  of  bodies  and  the  constant  laws 


CHAP.  XI  INDIVIDUAL    TELE  SIS  26 1 

according  to  which  the  forces  of  nature  act,  is  science^ 
and  this  usually  has  art  for  its  end.  The  combined 
effect  of  science  and  art  constitutes  so  nearly  the 
whole  of  the  material  civilization  of  the  world  that 
for  all  ordinary  purposes  the  other  factors  may  be 
omitted,  and  we  may  define  civilization  as  the  utiliza- 
tion of  the  materials  and  forces  of  nature.  The 
highest  expression  of  science  and  art  is  found  in 
machinery,  and  the  possible  improvement  of  ma- 
chinery renders  the  productive  power  of  society 
practically  unlimited.  Yet  we  know  that  there  is  a 
limit  to  the  amount  of  production  that  society  can 
assimilate.  That  limit  is  not  one  of  human  ingenuity, 
neither  is  it  one  of  capacity  to  consume.  It  is  a 
limit  to  the  ability  to  obtain.  The  so-called  over- 
production takes  place  while  men  are  starving,  and 
while  thousands  desire,  want,  and  even  need  the 
very  products  wliose  production  must  be  abandoned. 
This  has  been  the  enigma  of  economists.  The  ex- 
planation lies  in  the  fundamental  principle  of  this 
chapter.  It  is  the  natural  result  of  individual  telesis 
acting  under  the  law  of  nature  so  far  as  society  at 
large  is  concerned.  It  checks  production  by  chok- 
ing circulation.  It  makes  no  provision  for  equitable, 
not  to  speak  of  equal,  distribution.  The  monopo- 
listic tendency  of  natural  law,  working  here  as 
everywhere,  closes  the  smaller  avenues  of  trade, 
heaps  up  the  products  in  certain  centers,  and  clogs 
the  free  flow  of  the  social  chyme  before  it  can  fairly 
get  into  the  circulatory  system  of  society. 


CHAPTER   XII 

COLLECTIVE  TELESIS  i 

The  more  we  study  the  facts,  phenomena,  and 
laws  of  the  sentient  world,  the  more  thoroughly  do 
we  find  them  permeated  with  the  idea  of  utility. 
Metaphysics  asks  the  question,  Why  ?  pure  science 
asks  the  question,  How  ?  applied  science  asks  the 
question,  What  for  ?  The  first  inquires  after  the 
causes  of  things,  the  second  inquires  after  their  laws, 
the  third  inquires  after  their  uses.  The  last  of  these 
is  the  standpoint  of  all  feeling  beings,  while  the 
others  are  confined  to  beings  endowed  with  high 
reasoning  or  speculative  powers.  The  nature  of 
utility  as  the  term  is  used  in  both  economics  and 
sociology  was  considered  in  the  fifth  chapter,  and  in 
the  ninth  it  was  shown  that  both  these  sciences  are 
utilitarian  in  their  character,  and,  indeed,  that  all 
science  is  necessarily  so.  It  is  true  that  pure  science 
takes  no  account  of  this  fact  and  pursues  truth  for 
its  own  sake,  but  as  there  shown,  the  chief  defence 
of  this  method  has  always  rested  on  the  essential 
utility  of  all  truth,  and  although  the  sciences  differ 

1  American  Journal  of  Sociology,  Vol.  II.,  No.  6,  Chicago,  May, 
1897,  pp.  801-822. 

262 


CHAP.  XII  COLLECTIVE    TELESIS  263 

widely  in  this  respect,  still  it  is  true  that  every 
pure  science  has  or  may  have  its  applied  stage,  and 
although  sociology  can  perhaps  afford  to  wait  a 
long  time  yet  before  it  attempts  to  justify  its  ex- 
istence by  showing  what  it  exists  for,  still,  sooner  or 
later,  this  attempt  will  be  made.  In  view  of  the 
fact  that  its  claim  to  the  qualities  of  a  true  science 
has  been  widely  disputed,  there  is  the  more  reason 
for  it  to  justify  that  claim  as  early  as  possible,  and 
the  true  test  of  a  science  is  the  application  of  its 
principles  to  some  useful  purpose. 

The  subdivision  of  systematic  knowledge  into  a 
plurality  of  sciences  is  based  on  the  existence  of  as 
many  so-called  forces,  i.e.,  so  many  somewhat  dis- 
tinct modes  of  manifestation  of  the  universal  force. 
Each  science  deals  with  a  particular  one  of  these 
forces,  or,  at  least,  with  a  group  or  class  of  more  or 
less  similar  ones.  Sociology,  as  I  understand  it,  dif- 
fers in  no  essential  respect  from  other  sciences  ex- 
cept that  it  deals  with  the  social  forces.  The  telic 
progress  of  society,  as  reviewed  in  the  last  chapter, 
does  not  to  any  marked  extent  involve  the  control  of 
the  social  forces.  In  so  far  as  it  does  relate  to  them 
it  is  only  from  tlie  standpoint  of  the  individual  who 
seeks  to  subject  everything  to  his  purposes.  It  was 
seen  that  the  progress  thus  attained  resulted  from 
the  intelligent  direction  by  man  of  the  various  natu- 
ral forces.  This  does  not  exclude  the  social  forces, 
but  the  efforts  described  were  chiefly  expended  upon 
physical,  biotic,  and  psychic  forces,  the  last  mainly 


264  SOCIAL  SCIENCE  part  11 

in  relation  to  animal  domestication.  The  phenom- 
ena were  all  social  in  the  sense  of  their  mutual 
utility  to  the  members  of  society,  but  the  acts  were 
mainly  individual,  each  member  or  small  group  seek- 
ing personal  satisfaction.  They  were  only  in  a 
limited  degree  collective. 

Now  while,  in  so  far  as  even  individual  action 
really  utilizes  the  social  forces,  this  constitutes  an 
application  of  sociological  principles,  still  this  is  not 
what  I  have  intended  to  include  under  the  head  of 
collective  telesis.  I  propose  to  restrict  that  term  to 
the  collective  action  of  society  in  the  direction  of 
restraining,  controlling,  directing,  and  utilizing  in 
any  manner  the  natural  forces  of  society.  It  is  ob- 
vious, therefore,  that,  however  much  we  may  dislike 
the  term  (and  it  is  a  very  offensive  one  to  me),  we 
are  essentially  dealing  with  the  phenomena  of  govern- 
ment^ since  this  word  in  a  philosophical  sense  simply 
implies  the  organization  through  which  society  ex- 
presses and  enforces  its  collective  will.  It  is  true 
that,  owing  to  the  great  differences  that  exist  among 
human  races,  due  to  differences  of  language  and  the 
vicissitudes  of  human  history,  the  population  of  the 
world  is  now,  and  is  long  destined  to  remain,  divided 
into  a  great  number  of  distinct  nations  (not  to  speak 
of  savage  and  barbaric  tribes),  each  with  a  govern- 
ment of  its  own,  so  that  collective  social  action  can- 
not generally  extend  beyond  the  territorial  limits  of 
each  national  autonomy.  Still,  international  action 
of  certain  kinds  is  already  becoming  quite  extensive 


CHAP.  XII  COLLECTIVE    TELESIS  26$ 

and  is  destined  to  increase  with  the  progress  of  civ- 
ilization. Hence,  when  I  speak  of  collective  social 
action  it  is  to  be  taken  in  the  sense  of  national 
action,  or  at  least  of  action  on  the  part  of  nations, 
although  a  considerable  number  may  have  taken  the 
same  action.  Thus  defined  and  restricted,  there  re- 
mains no  other  essential  difference  between  indi- 
vidual and  social  action.  It  also  includes,  however, 
the  action  of  subordinate  governing  bodies,  states, 
municipalities,  towns,  etc.,  deriving  their  powers 
from  the  general  government. 

It  was  seen  that  telic  progress  consists  essentially 
in  the  process  called  invention,  which  presupposes 
the  perception  of  the  relations  of  objects  and  a 
knowledge  of  their  properties,  i.e.,  of  the  uniform 
laws  of  the  phenomena  they  present.  Invention 
materializes  itself  immediately  in  art,  and  art  is  the 
basis  of  civilization.  It  is  customary  to  say,  and 
most  people  believe,  that  art  precedes  science,  but 
this  is  because  altogether  too  narrow  and  special  a 
meaning  is  given  to  the  word  science.  Science  is 
simply  a  knotvinf/,  and  this  is  all  that  the  word  ety- 
mologically  implies.  Art  is  exclusively  the  product 
of  the  knowing  faculty.  It  is  wholly  telic.  As  I 
have  shown,  the  simplest  of  all  arts,  that  of  wield- 
ing a  stick,  is  impossible  without  a  knowledge  of 
the  physical  principle  which  makes  it  effective.  To 
judge  from  some  of  the  discussions  of  this  question 
it  might  be  supposed  that  most  of  the  simpler  arts 
were   the   result  of  pure   accident;    that   they  had 


266  SOCIAL  SCIENCE  part  ir 

merely  been  blundered  upon  without  any  thought  or 
knowledge.  If  this  were  so,  we  should  find  animals 
in  the  possession  of  arts.  But  this  is  not  the  case. 
Every  art  is  the  product  of  thinking,  knowing, 
reasoning,  no  matter  how  feeble  these  powers  may 
be.  Between  empiricism  and  science  there  is  only 
a  difference  of  degree.  The  faintest  exercise  of  the 
telic  or  intellectual  faculty  is,  in  so  far,  science. 

The  exactly  intermediate  step  between  individual 
telesis  and  social  telesis  is  an  organization  of  indi- 
viduals into  a  limited  body.  Such  organizations  are 
always  for  some  specific  purpose,  and  the  word  pur- 
pose sufficiently  indicates  their  telic  character.  It 
shows  that  there  may  be  a  thought  common  to  a 
number  of  persons,  and  that  several  individuals  can, 
as  well  as  a  single  one,  act  teleologically  towards  a 
desired  end.  In  modern  society  there  is  scarcely 
any  limit  to  the  variety  in  such  organizations. 
These  bodies  may  in  a  very  just  sense  be  regarded 
as  conscious  and  intelligent,  and  they  conduct  their 
operations  in  all  essential  respects  in  the  same  way 
that  individuals  conduct  theirs.  Even  if  we  were 
to  suppose  such  an  organization  to  embrace  all  the 
individuals  of  a  nation  and  no  others,  it  would  still 
differ  from  the  government  of  that  nation  in  its 
specific  object.  The  supposition  is,  however,  inad- 
missible, since  a  limited  organization  must  be  volun- 
tary, and  the  inhabitants  of  a  country  include  minors 
and  infants  who  have  no  intelligent  ideas  of  the 
purposes  of  association.     If  a  very  large  and  power- 


CHAP,  xil  COLLECTIVE    TELESIS  267 

ful  limited  organization  were  to  coerce  its  members 
or  other  persons  to  perform  certain  acts,  it  would  be 
usurping  the  sphere  of  government,  and  if  this  were 
acquiesced  in  it  would  become,  in  so  far,  the  govern- 
ment. Such  was  the  case  when  the  Church  of  Rome 
assumed  such  powers. 

If  a  small  number  of  individuals  may  think  and 
act  for  a  common  purpose,  a  larger  number  may,  and 
there  is  no  necessary  limit  until  the  totality  of  a 
people  is  embraced  in  the  number.  If  such  a  uni- 
versal organization  has  for  its  sole  object  the  good 
of  its  members  in  general,  it  thereby  virtually  becomes 
the  government.  To  justify  this  title,  however,  and 
accomplish  its  purpose  it  must  assume  full  power, 
and  this  single  act  deprives  it  of  the  character  of  a 
purely  voluntary  association.  No  government  can 
be  such,  although,  so  long  as  the  right  of  voluntary 
expatriation  exists,  as  it  almost  always  has  done,  it 
is  virtually  a  voluntary  association. 

Now  there  is  a  sense  in  which  the  very  existence 
of  government  implies  a  consensus  of  intelligent 
purpose.  Mr.  Spencer,  the  severest  critic  of  the 
acts  of  government  that  we  have  ever  had,  admits 
that  all  governments  roughly  represent  the  general 
sentiment  and  will  of  the  people,  and  cites  the  fail- 
ure of  the  commonwealth  under  Cromwell  as  an 
illustration.^     He  also  admits  that  intelligence  con- 

1  Westminster  Eeview,  Vol.  LXXIII.  (new  series,  Vol.  XVII.), 
January  1,  18G0,  p.  93.  Essays,  Scientific,  Political,  and  Specu- 
lative, New  York,  1891,  p.  208. 


268  SOCIAL   SCIENCE  part  li 

duces  to  association,  1  and  says  that  "the  chief 
prompter  is  experience  of  the  advantages  derived 
from  cooperation.  "2  The  same  idea  was  also  ex- 
pressed much  earlier  by  him  in  his  Data  of  Uthics,^ 
and  need  not  be  further  insisted  upon.  What  spe- 
cially concerns  us  here  is  the  fact  that  even  the 
rudest  forms  of  government  constitute  a  sort  of 
collective  intelligence  devoted  to  the  object  of  pro- 
tecting society  and  advancing  its  interests.  The 
mere  circumstance  that  the  personnel  of  government 
is  made  up  of  human  beings,  members  of  the  same 
society,  and  possessing  the  imperfections  of  man- 
kind in  general,  and  the  fact  that  these  favored 
individuals  often  use  the  power  which  society  has 
conferred  upon  them  to  further  their  own  egoistic 
ends  at  the  expense  and  to  the  injury  of  society, 
should  not,  as  it  so  often  does,  cause  us  to  lose  sight 
of  the  principle  and  turn  aside  to  combat  the  acci- 
dent. Any  other  set  of  men  would  do  the  same 
thing,  as  our  own  political  tergiversations  have 
shown,  and  the  only  remedy  is  the  general  improve- 
ment of  human  character  and  the  "eternal  vigilance" 
of  society. 

On  any  "social  organism"  theory  government  must 
be  regarded  as  the  brain  or  organ  of  consciousness  of 
society,  and  the  small  amount  of  "brains  "  shown  by 

1  Principles  of  Ethics,  Vol.  II.,  New  York,  1893,  p.  31. 

2  "The Great  Political  Superstition,"  in  Social  Statics,  abridged 
and  revised  ;  together  with  The  Man  versus  The  State,  New  York, 
1892,  p.  401. 

3  New  York,  1879,  p.  134. 


CHAP.  XII  COLLECTIVE    TELE  SIS  269 

government  is  simply  in  confirmation  of  the  conclu- 
sion reached  in  the  third  chapter  that  society  repre- 
sents an  organism  of  low  degree.  Whatever  purpose 
government  attempts  to  accomplish,  it  has  to  deal 
with  the  social  forces,  to  direct  and  control  them  on 
the  same  principles  that  the  individual  applies  to 
the  other  natural  forces.  When  treating  of  the 
latter  in  the  last  chapter  mention  was  made  of  the 
distinction  between  the  exercise  of  the  telic  faculty 
on  animate  and  on  inanimate  objects,  and  of  the 
moral  quality  that  enters  in  when  the  feelings, 
especially  of  men,  are  the  objects  of  egoistic  ex- 
ploitation. This  feature  was  not  dwelt  upon,  as 
properly  belonging  to  the  present  chaj)ter,  but  atten- 
tion was  called  to  the  fact  that  so  great  a  power 
directed  into  so  delicate  a  field  became  a  menace 
to  society  which  would  become  intolerable  if  not 
antagonized  by  the  same  power  wielded  by  the 
collective  body  of  society  itself.  This  is  really  the 
strongest  reason  for  the  existence  of  government, 
and  it  cannot  be  said  to  have  grown  less  with  the 
progress  of  civilization.  In  a  certain  way  it  has 
grown  stronger,  for  with  the  increase  of  intelligence 
the  inequality  in  the  degree  to  which  the  telic  power 
is  possessed  by  the  individual  members  of  society 
has  greatly  increased,  and  this  lias  correspondingly 
augmented  the  ability  of  some  to  exploit  others. 
Moreover,  with  this  same  advance  in  intellectual 
acumen  the  methods  have  changed,  and  open  war- 
fare, even  mental,  has  given  way  to  the  most  subtle 


270  SOCIAL   SCIENCE  part  il 

arts  of  deceiving  the  unwary  and  "  making  the  worse 
appear  the  better  reason,"  until  the  less  favored 
members  of  society  require  to  be  not  merely  "  wide 
awake  "  to  their  interests  and  perpetually  on  their 
guard,  but  they  must  be  keen  analyzers  of  human 
motives  and  philosophic  students  of  "human  nat- 
ure "  if  they  would  avoid  being  ensnared  in  the 
sophistries  of  the  cunning  leaders  and  makers  of 
public  opinion.  The  self-seeking  class,  which  for- 
merly feared  government  which  they  knew  existed 
to  foil  their  plans,  is  to-day  striving  with  Machia- 
velian  diplomacy,  and,  it  must  be  admitted,  with 
considerable  success,  to  enlist  government  itself  in 
its  service  and  thus  to  multiply  its  powers. 

The  individual  teleology  hitherto  considered  may 
be  regarded  as  unconscious.  The  social  benefits 
that  it  achieves  are  not  thought  of.  They  are  as 
much  accidental  and  unintended  as  are  those  that 
result  from  purely  genetic  or  spontaneous  activity. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  social  teleology  now  under 
consideration  —  the  action  of  the  central  body  which 
society  creates  to  look  after  its  interests  —  is  con- 
scious in  the  sense  that,  as  a  body,  it  always  aims  to 
benefit  society,  which  is  a  conscious  good.  Most 
such  action,  it  is  true,  involves  very  little  exercise 
of  the  higher  powers  of  mind.  The  decrees  of  a 
monarch  are  always  for  some  purpose,  but  they  rarely 
aim  to  accomplish  that  purpose  indirectly.  They 
are  usually  not  only  mandatory  —  thou  shalt  —  but 
negatively  so  —  thou  shalt  not.     Little  more  can  be 


CHAP.  XII  COLLECTIVE    TELESIS  T.'Jl 

said  for  the  great  body  of  laws  enacted  by  the  leg- 
islatures of  representative  governments.  That  is, 
legislators  usually  employ  the  direct  method.  This 
is  more  or  less  successful,  but  always  requires  a 
physical  power  behind  it.  It  is  the  purely  empirical 
stage  of  government.  As  government  is  an  apjDlica- 
tion  of  what  society  knows  about  the  nature  of  the 
social  forces,  it  is  a  true  art,  but  the  condition  in 
which  we  now  find  this  art  corresponds  to  that  in 
which  all  other  arts  are,  prior  to  the  application  to 
them  of  the  wider  principles  of  systematic  science, 
and  society  may  be  considered  to  occupy  the  place, 
relatively  to  what  it  will  ultimately  attain,  that  art 
occupied  before  the  era  of  science. 

This  brings  us  to  the  kernel  of  our  subject.  It 
may  be  called  tlie  isocial  art.  The  science  of  society 
must  produce  the  art  of  society.  True  legislation  is 
invention.  Government  is  the  art  that  results  from 
the  science  of  society  through  the  legislative  appli- 
cation of  sociological  principles.  In  every  domain 
of  natural  forces  there  are  the  four  steps :  First,  the 
discovery  of  the  laws  governing  phenomena;  second, 
perception  of  the  utilities  (modes  in  Avhich  the  phe- 
nomena can  be  modified  to  serve  man);  thiid,  the 
necessar}^  adjustments  to  secure  the  useful  end;  and, 
fourth,  the  application  of  all  this  in  producing  the 
result.  The  first  of  these  steps  is  that  of  pure 
science;  the  second  and  third  are  involved  in  inven- 
tion, and  properly  constitute  a])[)lied  science;  the 
fourtli  is  art  in  its  proper  sense.     In  taking  these 


272  SOCIAL   SCIENCE  part  ii 

successive  steps  there  has  usually  been  considerable 
division  of  labor.  Scientific  discoverers  are  not 
often  inventors,  and  inventors  rarely  make  the 
products  they  invent.  Still,  two  or  more  of  the 
steps  are  often  taken  by  the  same  individual. 

Now,  looking  at  society  as  a  domain  of  natural 
forces,  we  may  see  how  readily  it  admits  of  being 
subjected  to  this  series  of  processes.  Discovery  of 
the  laws  of  society  is  the  natural  province  of  the 
sociologist.  He  should  also  be  looked  to  for  the 
detection  of  utilities,  but  this  work  also  belongs  in 
a  still  higher  degree  to  the  legislator.  Adjustment 
is  the  exclusive  province  of  legislation,  and  laws, 
when  framed  according  to  these  principles,  would  be 
such  adjustments  and  nothing  else.  The  execution 
of  the  laws  is  the  resultant  social  art.  It  requires 
no  great  stretch  of  the  imagination  to  see  how  widely 
this  scheme  would  differ  from  the  corresponding 
features  of  the  present  regime.  It  is  still  easier  to 
see  its  immense  superiority.  As  was  shown  in  the 
last  chapter,  the  essence  of  telic  action  consists  at 
bottom  in  making  natural  forces  do  the  desired  work 
instead  of  doing  it  ourselves.  This  is  exactly  what 
is  needed  in  society.  The  desires,  passions,  and 
propensities  of  men  are  bad  only  in  the  sense  that 
fire  and  lightning  are  bad.  They  are  perennial 
natural  forces,  and,  whether  good  or  bad,  they  exist, 
cannot  be  removed,  and  must  be  reckoned  with. 
But  if  society  only  knew  how,  it  could  utilize  these 
forces,  and  their  very  strength  would  be  the  measure 


CHAP.  XII  COLLECTIVE    TELESIS  2/3 

of  their  power  for  good.  Society  is  now  spending 
vast  energies  and  incalculable  treasure  in  trying  to 
check  and  curb  these  forces  without  receiving  any 
benefit  from  them  in  return.  The  greater  part  of 
this  could  be  saved,  and  a  much  larger  amount 
transferred  to  the  other  side  of  the  account. 

The  principle  that  underlies  all  this  is  what  I 
have  called  "attractive  legislation. "^  But  it  is 
nothing  new  or  peculiar  to  society.  It  is  nothing 
else  than  the  universal  method  of  science,  invention, 
and  art  that  has  always  been  used  and  must  be  used 
to  attain  telic  results.  No  one  tries  to  drive  back, 
arrest,  curb,  and  suppress  the  physical  forces.  The 
discoverer  tells  the  inventor  what  their  laws  are ;  the 
inventor  sees  how  they  may  be  made  useful  and 
contrives  the  appropriate  apparatus;  the  man  of 
business  organizes  the  machinery  on  a  gigantic 
scale,  and  Avhat  was  a  hostile  element  becomes  an 
agent  of  civilization.  The  effort  is  not  to  diminish 
the  force,  but  usually  to  increase  it,  at  least  to  con- 
centrate and  focalize  it  so  as  to  bring  the  maximum 
amount  to  bear  on  a  given  point.  This  is  true 
direction  and  control  of  natural  powers.  So  it 
should  be  in  society.  The  healthy  affections  and 
emotions  of  men  should  not  be  curbed  but  should  be 
directed  into  useful  channels.  Zeal  and  ardor  are 
precious  gifts  if  only  they  tend  in  the  right  direc- 
tion, and  society  may  profit  by  every  human  attribute 
if  only  it  has  the  wisdom  to  utilize  it. 

*  Dynamic  Sociology  (see  index)  ;  Psychic  Factors,  p.  306. 

T 


274  SOCIAL   SCIENCE  part  il 

The  principle  involved  in  attraction,  when  applied 
to  social  affairs,  is  simply  that  of  inducing  men  to 
act  for  the  good  of  society.  It  is  that  of  harmonizing 
the  interests  of  the  individual  with  those  of  society, 
of  making  it  advantageous  to  the  individual  to  do 
that  which  is  socially  beneficial;  not  merely  in  a 
negative  form,  as  an  alternative  of  two  evils,  as  is 
done  when  a  penalty  is  attached  to  an  action,  but 
positively,  in  such  a  manner  that  he  will  exert  him- 
self to  do  those  things  that  society  most  needs  to 
have  done.  The  sociologist  and  the  statesman  should 
cooperate  in  discovering  the  laws  of  society  and  the 
methods  of  utilizing  them  so  as  to  let  the  social 
forces  flow  freely  and  strongly,  untrammelled  by 
penal  statutes,  mandatory  laws,  irritating  prohibi- 
tions, and  annoying  obstacles.  And  here  it  is 
important  to  draw  the  line  sharply  between  sociology 
and  ethics ;  between  social  action  and  social  friction. 

All  desire  is  for  the  exercise  of  some  function,  and  the 
objects  of  desire  are  such  only  by  virtue  of  making  such 
exercise  possible.  Happiness  therefore  can  only  be  in- 
creased by  increasing  either  the  number  or  the  intensity 
of  satisfiable  desires  .  .  .  The  highest  ideal  of  happi- 
ness, therefore,  is  the  freest  exercise  of  the  greatest 
number  and  most  energetic  faculties.  This  must  also  be 
the  highest  ethical  ideal.  But  it  is  clear  that  its  realiza- 
tion would  abolish  moral  conduct  altogether  and  remove 
the  very  field  of  ethics  from  a  scheme  of  philosophy. 
To  remove  the  obstacles  to  free  social  activity  is  to  abol- 
ish the  so-called  science  of  ethics.  The  avowed  purpose 
of  ethics  is  to  abolish  itself.     The  highest  ethics  is  no 


CHAP,  XII  COLLECTIVE    TELESIS  2/5 

ethics.  Ideally  moral  conduct  is  wholly  unmoral  con- 
duct. Or  more  correctly  stated,  the  highest  ideal  of  a 
moral  state  is  one  in  which  there  will  exist  nothing  that 
can  be  called  moral. 

Whether  we  look  at  the  subject  from  the  standpoint 
of  social  progress  or  from  that  of  individual  welfare,  the 
liberation  of  social  energy  is  the  desideratum.  The 
sociologist  demands  it  because  it  increases  the  progres- 
sive power  of  society.  The  moralist  should  demand  it 
because  it  increases  happiness.  For  activity  means  both, 
and  therefore  the  more  activity  the  better.  True  moral- 
ity not  less  than  true  progress  consists  in  the  emancipa- 
tion of  social  energy  and  the  free  exercise  of  power. 
Evil  is  merely  the  friction  which  is  to  be  overcome  or 
at  least  minimized.  .  .  .  The  tendencies  that  produce 
evil  are  not  in  themselves  evil.  There  is  no  absolute 
evil.  None  of  the  propensities  which  now  cause  evil  are 
essentially  bad.  They  are  all  in  themselves  good,  must 
necessarily  be  so,  since  they  have  been  developed  for  the 
sole  purpose  of  enabling  man  to  exist,  survive,  and  pro- 
gress. All  evil  is  relative.  Any  power  may  do  harm. 
The  forces  of  nature  are  good  or  bad  according  to  where 
they  are  permitted  to  expend  themselves.  The  wind  is 
evil  when  it  dashes  the  vessel  on  the  rocks ;  it  is  good 
when  it  fills  the  sail  and  speeds  it  on  its  way.  Fire  is 
evil  when  it  rages  through  a  great  city  and  destroys  life 
and  property  ;  it  is  good  when  it  warms  human  dwellings 
or  creates  the  wondrous  power  of  steam.  Electricity  is 
evil  when  in  the  thunderbolt  it  descends  from  the  cloud 
and  scatters  death  and  destruction  ;  it  is  good  Avhen  it 
transmits  messages  of  love  to  distant  friends.  And  so 
it  is  with  the  passions  of  men  as  they  surge  through 
society.  Left  to  themselves,  like  the  physical  elements, 
they  find  vent  in  all  manner  of  ways  and  constantly  dash 
against  the  interests  of  those  who  chance  to  be  in  their 


276  SOCIAL   SCIENCE  part  ll 

way.  But,  like  the  elements,  they  readily  yield  to  the 
touch  of  true  science,  which  directs  them  into  harmless, 
nay,  useful  channels,  and  makes  them  instruments  for 
good.  In  fact,  human  desires,  seeking  their  satisfaction 
through  appropriate  activity,  constitute  the  only  good 
from  the  standpoint  of  sociology.^ 

Few,  of  course,  will  be  satisfied  with  these  gener- 
alities, and  many  will  doubtless  ask  for  some  concrete 
illustrations  of  scientific  legislation.  Even  those  who 
accept  the  general  conclusions  that  thus  logically  flow 
from  the  facts  of  genetic  and  telic  progress  will  still 
find  themselves  at  a  loss  to  conceive  what  definite 
steps  can  be  taken  to  accelerate  the  latter,  or  how 
the  central  ganglion  of  society  can  inaugurate  a  sys- 
tem of  social  machinery  that  will  produce  the  required 
results.  This  is  quite  natural,  and  the  only  answer 
that  can  be  made  is  that,  owing  to  the  undeveloped 
state  of  the  social  intellect,  very  few  examples  of 
true  ingenuity  on  the  part  of  legislators  exist.  Soci- 
ety, as  I  have  shown,  if  comparable  to  an  organism 
at  all,  must  take  rank  among  creatures  of  a  very  low 
order.  The  brain  of  society  has  scarcely  reached  the 
stage  of  development  at  which  in  the  animal  world 
the  germs  of  an  intellectual  faculty  are  perceptible. 
Only  when  spurred  on  by  the  most  intense  egoistic 
impulses  have  nations  exhibited  any  marked  indica- 
tions of  the  telic  power.  This  has  developed  in  pro- 
portion to  the  extent  to  which  the  national  will  has 
coincided  with  the  will  of  some  influential  individual. 

1  Psychic  Factors,  pp.  113-115. 


CHAP.  XII  COLLECTIVE    TELESIS  2// 

Great  generals  in  war,  inspired  by  personal  ambition, 
have  often  expressed  the  social  will  of  their  own 
country  by  brilliant  feats  of  strategy  and  generalship, 
and  famous  statesmen  like  Richelieu  have  represented 
a  whole  nation  by  strokes  of  diplomacy  that  called 
out  the  same  class  of  talents  in  a  high  degree.  Even 
monarchs  like  Peter  the  Great,  Frederick  the  Great, 
and  Charles  XII.,  not  to  mention  Cajsar  and  Alex- 
ander, have  made  their  own  genius  in  a  sense  the 
genius  of  their  country.  In  fact  a  ruling  class  in 
times  when  the  people  were  supposed  to  exist  for 
them,  when  a  king  could  say  "  I  am  the  state,"  and 
when  revenues  were  collected  for  their  personal  use, 
often  devised  very  cunning  schemes  of  a  national 
application  for  their  own  aggrandizement.  But  as 
the  world  threw  off  these  yokes,  and  nations  grew 
more  and  more  democratic,  the  telic  element  declined, 
and  the  most  democratic  governments  liave  proved 
the  most  stupid.  They  have  to  rely  upon  brute  force. 
They  are  shortsighted  and  only  know  how  to  lock 
the  door  after  the  horse  is  stolen.  They  are  swayed 
by  impulse.  They  swarm  and  "  enthuse,"  and  then 
lapse  into  a  state  of  torpor,  losing  all  that  was  gained, 
and  again  surge  in  another  direction,  wasting  their 
energies.  In  fact,  they  act  precisely  like  animals 
devoid  of  intelligence. 

All  this  is  what  we  ought  to  expect  if  the  princi- 
ples I  have  enunciated  are  sound,  and  is,  indeed,  one 
of  the  clearest  proofs  of  their  soundness.  And  yet 
republics  have  not  proved  wholly  devoid  of  a  direc- 


2/8  SOCIAL  SCIENCE  PART  n 

tive  agent.  Under  exceptional  circumstances  they 
have  displayed  signs  of  collective  intelligence.  But 
most  of  the  cases  that  can  be  cited  have  either  con- 
cerned their  national  independence  or  the  equally 
vital  question  of  raising  revenue.  Nearly  all  the  ex- 
amples cited  in  Dynamic  Sociology  and  Psychic  Fac- 
tors belong  to  these  classes  in  which,  in  a  literal  sense, 
necessity  has  been  the  mother  of  invention.  Any  one 
who  watches  the  inane  flounderings  of  a  large  "  delib- 
erative "  (!)  body  like  the  American  House  of  Repre- 
sentatives, working  at  cross  purposes  and  swayed  by 
a  thousand  conflicting  motives,  can  see  how  little 
reason  has  to  do  with  democratic  legislation.  But 
for  the  committee  system  by  which,  to  a  certain  ex- 
tent, the  various  public  questions  become  the  subject 
of  scientific  investigation,  it  is  doubtful  whether  the 
business  of  the  country  could  be  transacted  at  all. 
And  it  is  only  by  a  much  greater  extension  of  this 
system,  perhaps  to  the  extent  of  dispensing  entirely 
with  the  often  disgraceful,  and  always  stupid,  "  de- 
liberations "  of  the  full  House,  that  scientific  legis- 
lation can  ever  be  realized. 

The  other  important  direction  in  which  there  is 
hope  of  similar  results  is  the  gradual  assumption  of 
legislative  powers,  at  least  advisory,  by  the  adminis- 
trative branch,  which  always  feels  the  popular  pulse 
much  more  sensitively  than  the  legislature,  and  to 
which  is  entrusted  not  merely  the  execution  of  the 
public  will  (the  art  of  government),  but  also  in 
the  main  the  devising  of  means  to  accomplish  this — 


CHAP.  XII  COLLECTIVE    TELESIS  279 

the  strictly  inventive  function  of  government.  If 
the  legislature  will  enact  the  measures  that  the 
administrative  branch  recommends  as  the  result  of 
direct  experience  with  the  business  world,  it  will 
rarely  go  astray.^ 

The  examples  given,  in  which  military  chieftains, 
diplomats,  monarchs,  and  ruling  families  have  em- 
ployed design  in  national  affairs,  do  not  indicate  the 
growth  of  the  social  intelligence  or  the  integration 
of  the  social  organism.  They  are  merely  instances 
of  the  usurpation  of  the  powers  of  society  by  individ- 
ual members.  On  the  other  hand,  the  tendencies  in 
the  direction  of  democratic  government  do  mark  prog- 
ress in  social  integration,  however  feeble  may  be 
the  telic  power  displayed.  Crude  and  imperfect  as 
such  governments  may  be,  they  are  better  than  the 
wisest  of  autocracies.  Stupidity  joined  with  benevo- 
lence is  better  than  brilliancy  joined  with  rapacity, 
and  not  only  is  autocracy  always  rapacious,  but 
democracy  is  always  benevolent.  The  first  of  these 
propositions  can  be  disputed  only  by  citing  isolated 
exceptions.  The  second  may  not  be  so  clear,  yet  it 
admits  of  ready  demonstration.  It  is  not  necessary 
to  postulate  a  different  nature  for  the  democratic 
legislator  from  that  of  the  autocratic  ruler.  How- 
ever self-seeking  the  former  may  be,  social  service 

^  The  principles  of  scientific  legislation  were  set  forth  in  Dy- 
namic Sociology.  See  especially  Vol.  I.,  pp.  36-38;  Vol.  II.,  pp. 
249  ff.,  395  ff.,  573  ff.;  and  for  examples  of  attractive  legislation, 
see  Vol.  I.,  p.  44  ;  Vol.  II.,  p.  392  ;  also,  Fsychic  Factors,  p.  306. 


280  SOCIAL   SCIENCE  part  ii 

turns  his  egoism  to  the  good  of  society.  It  is  an 
example  of  the  truth  that  what  are  called  bad  mo- 
tives are  only  relatively  so,  and  that  the  social  forces 
only  need  to  be  directed  to  render  them  all  good. 
For  in  seeking  his  own  interests  the  representative  of 
the  people  must  obey  their  will.  The  will  of  the 
people  must  be  good,  at  least  for  them.  Constitu- 
encies have  the  same  nature  as  representatives  or 
kings,  but  whatever  they  will  must  be  right  from 
their  standpoint.  The  good  consists  in  the  satisfac- 
tion of  desire,  and  this  can  only  become  bad  when  it 
is  secured  at  the  expense  of  others.  But  where  a 
constituency  is  in  question  this  is  not  possible  except 
in  very  sectional  questions  which  cannot  be  discussed 
here.  A  fortiori  must  obedience  to  the  will  of  a 
whole  people  be  right,  and  therefore  the  representa- 
tive of  the  people,  whatever  may  be  his  personal 
character,  is  constrained  by  his  office  to  do  only 
what  is  right.  If  he  fails,  another  is  put  in  his  place. 
It  is  thus  that  it  comes  about  that  representative 
governments  are  essentially  benevolent,  z.e.,  they 
always  ivi%h  well  for  the  people,  or,  as  the  more  com- 
mon phrase  expresses  it,  they  mean  well.  And  any 
one  not  prejudiced  against  government  must  see  that, 
whatever  their  faults  of  the  head,  they  are  right  at 
heart. 

Democracy  has  therefore  been  a  great  step  forward, 
and  has  practically  solved  the  moral  side  of  the  ques- 
tion of  government.  Reform  in  the  future  must 
come  from  the  mind  side,  and  surely  there  is  great 


CHAP.  XII  COLLECTIVE    TELESIS  28 1 

need  of  it.  How  can  it  be  brought  about  ?  This  is 
the  problem  of  sociology.  I  have  wrestled  with  it 
for  many  years,  not  in  the  hope  of  doing  anything 
in  this  direction  myself,  but  with  the  object  of  dis- 
covering, if  possible,  a  theoretical  solution  to  propose 
to  the  world  for  its  consideration.  The  result  of  my 
reflections  on  this  subject  is  given  in  the  second 
volume  of  Dynamic  Sociology,  and  although  I  have 
not  ceased  to  revolve  these  matters  in  my  mind 
during  the  fourteen  years  that  have  elapsed  since 
the  first  edition  of  that  work  appeared,  I  cannot  say 
that  my  conclusions  have  undergone  any  essential 
modification.  I  would  now  lay  more  stress  upon 
certain  parts  of  the  general  argument,  and  somewhat 
less  on  others,  but  the  argument  as  a  whole  still 
stands  as  worked  out  in  that  volume.  As  demo- 
cratic governments  must  be  representative,  I  see  no 
way  to  increase  their  intellectual  status  except  by 
increasing  that  of  constituencies,  and  I  still  regard 
this  as  the  one  great  desideratum.  If  the  social 
consciousness  can  be  so  far  quickened  as  to  awake 
to  the  full  realization  of  this  truth  in  such  vivid 
manner  as  to  induce  general  action  in  the  direction 
of  devising  means  for  the  universal  equalization  of 
intelligence,  all  other  social  problems  will  be  put  in 
the  way  of  gradual  but  certain  solution. 

But  there  are  some  who  will  say  that  if  tliis  little 
is  all  there  is  to  sustain  the  claim  that  society  is  one 
day  destined  to  take  its  affairs  into  its  own  liands 
and  conduct   its   business    like  a  rational   being,   it 


282  SOCIAL   SCIENCE  part  ll 

would  be  as  well  to  abandon  it.  If  the  long  period 
of  human  history  has  shown  so  little  advance  in  the 
direction  of  a  social  intelligence,  we  might  better 
leave  matters  entirely  to  the  two  spontaneous 
methods  described  in  the  two  preceding  chapters. 
The  first  answer  to  this  is  that  the  sociologist  does 
not  profess  to  be  a  reformer,  and  is  not  advocating 
any  course  of  social  action.  All  he  feels  called 
upon  to  do  is  to  point  out  what  the  effect  of  a  cer- 
tain course  of  action  would  be  as  deduced  from  the 
fundamental  principles  of  the  science,  and  to  state 
what  he  conceives  the  tendencies  to  be  as  judged 
from  the  history  of  development. 

The  second  answer  to  this  objection  is  that  it  is 
the  one  that  is  always  raised  whenever  anything  is 
mentioned  which  is  different  from  that  which  now 
exists,  that  it  is  based  on  the  natural  error  that 
things  are  stationary  because  they  seem  to  be  so, 
and  grows  out  of  the  difficulty  of  conceiving  a  state 
of  things  widely  different  from  the  actual  state.  If 
we  were  to  indulge  in  fable,  a  lump  of  inert  matter 
would  be  laughed  at  by  the  other  lumps  if  it  should 
assert  that  it  would  one  day  become  a  graceful  tree- 
fern,  and  shade  the  earth  with  its  feathery  foliage ; 
a  plant  that  should  declare  its  intention  to  break 
away  from  its  attachments  to  the  soil  and  move 
about  in  space  on  four  legs,  feeding  on  other  plants 
instead  of  air,  would  be  called  a  vain  boaster  by  the 
surrounding  vegetation ;  a  barnacle  that  should  insist 
that  it  would  one  day  have  a  backbone  would  be 


CHAP.  XII  COLLECTIVE    TELESIS  283 

utterly  discredited  by  other  barnacles;  a  bat  that 
should  fly  into  a  dark  corner  of  a  room  and  escape 
through  an  opening  known  to  be  there  would  be 
called  a  fool  by  the  bee  that  was  vainly  buzzing 
against  a  pane  of  glass  in  the  hope  of  accomplishing 
the  same  object.^  It  is  the  "impossible"  that  hap- 
pens. We  can  look  backward  more  easily  than  we 
can  look  forward.  Science  teaches  us  that  some- 
thing has  happened.  Evolution  proves  that  immense 
changes  have  taken  place,  and  now  that  we  can  see 
what  they  were  and  according  to  what  principles 
they  were  brought  about  there  is  nothing  so  startling 
in  the  facts.  It  is  only  when  we  try  to  imagine  our- 
selves as  present  before  an  event  and  striving  to 
forecast  it  that  we  realize  the  folly  of  raising  such 
objections  as  we  are  considering.  Yet  this  is  our 
real  attitude  with  respect  to  future  events.  It  may 
be  logical,  admitting  that  progress  is  to  go  on  and 
that  great  changes  are  to  take  place,  to  question 
whether  any  particular  change  that  any  one  may 
describe  is  to  be  the  one  that  will  actually  occur. 
There  is  no  probability  that  any  one  can  foretell  what 
the  real  condition  of  society  is  to  be  in  the  future. 
But  it  is  illogical,  in  the  light  of  the  past,  of  history, 
and  especially  of  natural  history,  and  of  what  we 

^  This  point  of  view  was  never  so  admirably  stated  as  in  the 
remarkable  poem  by  Charlotte  Perkins  Stetson,  entitled  "  Similar 
Cases,"  now  familiar  to  nearly  everybody,  having  gone  the  com- 
plete rounds  of  the  press.  Also  to  bo  found  in  her  collection  of 
poems  entitled  In  This  Our  World  and  Other  Puems,  San  Fran- 
cisco (Barry  &  Marble,  publishers),  1H95,  p.  72. 


284  SOCIAL  SCIENCE  part  ii 

actually  know  of  evolution,  cosmic,  organic,  and 
social,  to  say  that  any  condition  to  which  this  know- 
ledge points  as  a  normal  result  of  the  continued  action 
of  the  laws  of  evolution  is  impossible. 

In  treating  the  relations  of  sociology  to  the  various 
other  sciences  —  cosmology,  biology,  anthropology, 
psychology  —  in  the  second,  third,  fourth,  and  fifth 
chapters,  and  in  the  more  general  discussion  of  the 
position  and  affinities  of  sociology  in  the  first  and 
sixth,  I  would  have  been  glad  to  institute  a  thorough 
comparison  of  sociology  with  economics,  from  which 
to  many  it  seems  so  difficult  to  separate  it.  My 
failure  to  do  this  was  not  at  all  due  to  any  such 
difficulty  in  my  own  mind,  but  wholly  to  the  fact 
that  before  a  comparison  could  be  properly  made  it 
was  absolutely  necessary  that  the  principles  to  be  set 
forth  in  later  chapters,  and  especially  in  the  eighth 
and  eleventh,  as  well  as  in  the  present  one,  be  first 
laid  down  as  the  basis  of  any  real  distinction.  We 
are  now  fully  prepared  to  consider  this  question,  but 
a  due  regard  for  proportion  will  necessarily  render 
its  treatment  brief.  It  is  therefore  best  to  come 
directly  to  the  point. 

The  fundamental  distinction  between  sociology 
and  economics  is  based  on  the  difference  in  their 
respective  beneficiaries.  Both  have  utility  ^  for 
their  end,  but  the  recipients  of  the  utility  that 
sociology  aims  to  confer  belong  to  a  different  class 

1  As  defined  in  the  fifth  chapter,  sjtjpra,  p.  108. 


CHAP.  XII  COLLECTIVE    TELESIS  285 

from  those  of  the  utility  which  economics  aims  to 
confer.  Broadly  stated,  economics  may  be  said  to 
benefit  the  producer  while  sociology  benefits  the  con- 
sumer. But  the  term  producer  must  here  be  taken 
in  its  widest  and  really  proper  sense  of  any  one  who 
by  any  form  of  labor  adds  anything  to  the  value,  i.e., 
to  the  utility,  of  a  product.  The  term  consumer,  on 
the  contrary,  must  be  taken  in  the  narrower  sense  of 
the  enjoyer  of  a  product  irrespective  of  whether  he 
is  also  a  producer  or  not.  It  will  add  to  the  clear- 
ness of  the  distinction,  and  will  at  the  same  time  be 
approximately  correct,  if  we  identify  the  producing 
class  with  the  business  world  in  general,  or  the 
industrial  world  as  a  whole,  and  the  consuming 
class  with  the  public  in  general  or  society  as  a 
whole.  The  latter  class  of  course  includes  the 
former,  but,  disregarding  parasites,  the  former  in- 
cludes all  of  the  latter  except  the  helpless,  whether 
from  age,  disease,  or  physical  and  mental  defective- 
ness. It  is  not  the  relative  size  or  quality  of  these 
two  classes  that  constitutes  the  distinction  in  ques- 
tion, but  the  direction  given  to  the  utility  by 
economics  and  sociology  respectively.  In  short, 
economics,  as  so  many  economists  have  insisted, 
concerns  itself  with  the  creation  of  wealth  irrespec- 
tive of  who  shall  receive  this  wealth,  though  this  is 
properly  assumed  to  be  those  who  create  it.  It  nar- 
rows down,  therefore,  to  the  question  of  earnings 
and  profits.  It  deals  with  wages,  salaries,  divi- 
dends, receipts  and  expenditures  as  related  to  each 


286  SOCIAL   SCIENCE  part  ir 

other,  and  marginal  values.  The  class  considered 
is  the  earner  in  the  widest  sense  of  the  term.  It  is 
the  makers,  those  who  increase  the  value,  and  the 
sellers  or  disposers  of  goods,  with  whom  economics 
has  to  do.  The  primary  question  in  each  case  is: 
Is  the  business  a  success?  If  it  is  not,  it  must  go 
down.  The  buyer,  the  user,  the  enjoyer,  the  con- 
sumer, is  left  out  of  the  account.  "  Political  econ- 
omy .  .  .  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  consumption  of 
wealth,  further  than  as  the  consideration  of  it  is 
inseparable  from  that  of  production,  or  from  that  of 
distribution."  1  In  sharp  contrast  to  this,  sociology 
is  exclusively  concerned  with  the  destination  of 
wealth,  in  so  far  as  it  deals  with  wealth.  It  is  no 
more  interested  in  the  benefit  that  the  producer 
receives  than  in  that  which  it  confers  on  any  other 
class.  If  a  business,  no  matter  how  "successful," 
is  injurious,  it  is  a  failure  from  the  standpoint  of 
sociology.  And  in  broader  national  affairs  it  is  not 
a  question  whether  a  policy  is  or  is  not  a  source  of 
revenue  to  the  state,  but  whether  it  is  a  benefit  to 
the  public.  Thus  in  the  question  of  taxation,  of 
whatever  kind,  sociology  is  not  concerned  with  its 
"fiscal"  effects,  but  with  its  "social"  effects.  A 
tariff,  if  defended,  is  so  not  because  it  proves  a  suc- 
cessful and  easy  way  to  raise  revenue,  but  because  it 
diversifies  and  elevates  population. ^ 

1  John  Stuart  Mill,  Essays  on   Some    Unsettled  Questions  of 
Political  Economy,  London,  1844,  p.  132,  footnote. 

2  I  once  made  a  study  of  this  question  which  appeared  under 


CHAP.  XII  COLLECTIVE    TELESIS  28/ 

It  is  true  that  certain  modern  economists  have 
insisted  more  or  less  that  consumption  should  be 
regarded  as  a  legitimate  subject  of  economic  study. 
I  gave  a  brief  history  of  this  movement  in  economic 
thought  in  a  former  paper,  ^  treating  it  as  an  advance 
in  economics  which  I  called  "social  economics." 
That  paper  was  specially  addressed  to  economists, 
and  no  attempt  was  made  to  harmonize  it  with 
the  present  work,  which,  however,  was  at  that 
time  for  the  most  part  written,  and  began  to  ap- 
pear a  month  later.  It  is  only  necessary  to  say 
now  that  social  economics  as  thus  defined  is  simply 
sociology,  and  those  economists  who  proceed  from 
the  standpoint  of  consumption,  whether  they  realize 
it  or  not,  whether  they  desire  it  or  not,  are  in  so  far 
sociologists. 

One  or  two  examples  of  the  two  distinct  points  of 
view  of  economics  and  sociology  will  make  them 
clearer.  Prior  to  the  year  1881,  in  the  capacity  of 
librarian  of  the  United  States  Bureau  of  Statistics,  I 
had  occasion  to  study  the  statistics  of  railroads  of 
various  countries.  Many  foreign  countries  had  com- 
menced the  assumption  of  their  control  by  the  state 
as  their  charters  expired,  and  already  a  large  number 
of  important  lines  in  France,  Italy,  Austria,  Ger- 


thc  title:  "The  Sociological  Position  of  Protection  and  Free 
Trade,"  Ame.rican  Anthropnlngist,  Washington,  Vol.  II.,  No.  4, 
October,  1880,  pp.  28!)-290. 

1  Political  Science  Quarterly,  Vol.  X.,  No.  2,  Juno,  1895,  pp. 
216-217. 


288  SOCIAL   SCIENCE  PART  li 

many,  and  other  countries  on  the  continent  had 
passed  out  of  corporate  management  and  were  ad- 
ministered by  the  state  either  as  owner  or  for  the 
companies.  The  agitation  of  state  ownership  had 
begun  both  in  Great  Britain  and  in  the  United 
States.  The  railroad  journals  were  filled  with  the 
discussion  of  this  question,  and  I  had  it  as  a  part  of 
my  official  duty  to  keep  abreast  of  the  movement 
and  to  compile  statistics  bearing  upon  it.  The  tone 
of  the  railroad  press  was  of  course  uniformly  hostile 
to  the  movement,  and  I  observed  that  all  the  argu- 
ments were  directed  to  showing  that  the  companies 
"  managed  "  the  lines  with  greater  economy  than  the 
state  "  administered  "  them.  I  was  required  to  pre- 
pare tables  demonstrating  this,  which  was  an  easy 
matter,  and  there  really  was  no  room  for  a  difference 
of  opinion.  As  a  pastime  I  had  devoted  consider- 
able of  my  unofficial  time  for  the  preceding  fifteen 
years  to  writing  and  rewriting  my  Dynamic  Sociology^ 
which  was  then  nearly  ready  for  publication,  and  I 
could  not  avoid  occasionally  taking  the  sociological 
point  of  view  as  distinguished  from  the  economic 
one,  alone  taken  by  the  railroad  press,  and  I  took 
home  some  of  the  elaborate  Prussian  statistical 
reports  (^StatistiscJie  Nachrichten  von  den  preussisehen 
JEisenbahnen),  usually  several  years  behind  date,  and 
searched  carefully  through  their  complicated  columns 
for  all  possible  facts  bearing  on  the  sociological  side. 
The  year  1874  was  well  adapted  to  this,  the  state 
management  having  then  extended  to  about  as  large 


CHAP.  XII  COLLECTIVE    TELESIS  289 

a  number  of  lines  as  were  still  in  the  hands  of  the 
companies.  I  selected  the  columns  for  freight  and 
passenger  rates,  happily  given,  and  wanting  in  the 
statistics  of  nearly  or  quite  all  other  countries.  I 
worked  these  up  for  that  year  and  gave  the  result  in 
a  footnote  to  page  581  of  the  second  volume  of  my 
book.  The  general  result,  as  there  shown,  was  that 
"while  the  roads  owned  and  worked  by  companies 
yielded  13.7  per  cent  greater  profits  than  those 
owned  and  worked  by  the  state,  the  latter  carried 
passengers  9.4  and  freight  15  per  cent  cheaper  than 
the  former." 

One  other  example  will  be  merely  referred  to,  be- 
cause its  elaboration  would  occupy  too  much  space. 
The  Bulletin  of  the  Department  of  Labor,  No.  7,  for 
November,  1896,  contains  a  most  important  study  by 
Ethelbert  Stewart  on  "Rates  of  Wages  paid  under 
Public  and  Private  Contract."  The  title,  however, 
is  misleading,  because  in  addition  to  rates  paid 
under  contract  it  includes  those  paid  by  municipali- 
ties themselves.  It  is  a  comparison  of  these,  where 
they  exist,  with  those  paid  by  contractors,  whether 
public  or  private,  that  furnishes  interesting  matter 
for  the  sociologist.  A  glance  at  tlie  tables  given  for 
Baltimore,  Boston,  New  York,  and  Pliiladelphia  is 
sufficient  to  show  that  in  nearly  all  the  leading  in- 
dustries the  municipalities  pay  higher  wages  than 
either  contractoi-s  or  private  companies.  These  and 
similar  investigations  are  being  conducted  by  the 
Bureau  of  Labor  and  by  the  Census.     In  scarcely 


290  SOCIAL  SCIENCE  part  il 

any  other  way  could  they  be  made,  since  private 
enterprise  has  no  incentive  to  conduct  strictly  socio- 
logical investigations  such  as  this  one  preeminently 
is.  They  can  afford  to  study  only  the  economic  side 
to  ascertain  whether  any  enterprise  is  profitable  to 
its  managers.  Public  considerations  are  wholly  for- 
eign to  their  interests.  But  the  state,  as  already 
remarked,  is  essentially  benevolent,  and  all  its  op- 
erations, however  shortsighted  and  fruitless,  aim  at 
least  to  benefit  the  people.  In  the  hands  of  wise 
and  humane  officers,  such  as  the  present  head  of 
these  great  bureaus,  they  are  certain  to  be  produc- 
tive of  immense  public  good. 

It  was  the  great  Descartes  who  first  enunciated  the 
truth  that  all  questions  of  quality  are  reducible  to 
those  of  quantity.  This  mathematical  axiom  finds 
its  economic  expression  in  the  corresponding  truth 
that  all  questions  of  principle  are  at  bottom  ques- 
tions of  interest.  The  object  of  all  science  is  to 
create  art  which  will  assist  nature  in  furthering 
progress.  Art  has  its  highest  expression  in  machin- 
ery. Art  and  machinery  belong  to  economics  be- 
cause they  are  economical.  They  consist  in  the 
enlistment  of  the  forces  of  nature  in  man's  service. 
The  physical  forces  have  already  been  so  enlisted 
until  the  power  of  production  has  become  next  to 
unlimited.  This  has  brought  about  a  state  of  things 
in  which  there  is  a  constant  tendency  to  what  is 
called  "over-production."  What  is  meant  is  the 
production  of  more  than  can,  in  the  present  state  of 


CHAP.  XII  COLLECTIVE    TELESIS  29I 

society,  be  consumed.  But  the  inability  to  consume 
is  not  due  to  incapacity  for  consumption  itself,  ex- 
cept in  a  few  articles.  It  is  due  to  the  inability  to 
obtain.  The  fact  that  there  are  thousands  in  want 
even  of  the  necessaries  of  life  that  are  thus  over- 
produced shows  clearly  enough  that  there  is  no 
more  produced  than  would  be  eagerly  consumed  if 
it  could  be  obtained.  The  problem  of  the  age  is  to 
put  what  is  produced  into  the  hands  of  those  who 
desire  to  consume  it,  and  to  do  this  in  harmony  with 
economic  laws,  and  not  as  a  gift  or  charity,  which 
violates  economic  laws. 

While  no  one  is  wise  enough  at  the  present  day 
to  formulate  a  plan  for  securing  this  result,  the  gen- 
eral principle  underlying  the  problem  may  even  now 
be  stated.  It  is  this:  The  progress  made  in  eco- 
nomic art  and  machinery  is  far  in  advance  of  that 
made  in  social  art  and  machinery.  Production  is  es- 
sentially an  individual  enterprise  and  comparatively 
simple,  while  distribution,  not  in  the  economic 
but  in  the  sociological  sense,  is  highly  complex. 

Production  is  the  result  of  individual  ingenuity 
applied  to  the  physical  and  vital  forces  of  nature. 
Distribution  must  be  the  result  of  collective  inge- 
nuity applied  to  the  social  forces.  There  are  l)hysi- 
cal  forces  that  will  secure  it  to  a  certain  extent,  but 
they  are  subject  to  the  law  of  competition,  which 
sets  a  limit  to  their  action  and  soon  chokes  up  the 
avenues  of  distribution.  The  kind  of  ingenuity 
needed  to  secure  free  circulation  of  products  is  so- 


292  SOCIAL  SCIENCE  part  ii 

cial  ingenuity,  i.e.,  collective  telesis.  A  social  ma- 
chinery of  free  distribution  must  be  invented  and 
perfected  by  social  ingenuity.  The  machinery  of 
production  is  a  product  of  physical  science.  The 
machinery  of  distribution  will  be  a  product  of  social 
science.  Sociology  stands  in  the  same  relation  to 
the  distribution  of  wealth  that  economics  stands  to 
its  production.  Most  of  the  so-called  over-production 
is  simply  the  choking  of  the  avenues  of  distribution. 
It  is  the  problem  of  social  science  to  clear  these  ave- 
nues and  let  the  products  flow  freely  wherever  they 
are  attracted  by  human  wants.  The  sociologist 
believes  this  possible  through  social  ingenuity  and 
social  machinery. 

This  general  social  art,  the  scientific  control  of 
the  social  forces  by  the  collective  mind  of  society 
for  its  advantage,  in  strict  homology  with  the  prac- 
tical arts  of  the  industrial  world,  is  what  I  have 
hitherto  given  the  name  Sociocracy.  It  has  some- 
times been  confounded  with  socialism,  and  I  cannot 
perhaps  better  conclude  this  work  than  by  briefly 
pointing  out  wherein,  so  far  as  I  understand  what 
socialism  is,  this  differs  from  it,  and  also  from  the 
prevailing  competitive  regime  or  individualism. 
This  can  only  be  done  at  this  stage  by  a  few  anti- 
thetical propositions  whose  elaboration  is  for  the 
present  postponed: 

1.  Individualism  has  created  artificial  inequali- 
ties. 

2.  Socialism  seeks  to  create  artificial  equalities. 


CHAP,  xil  COLLECTIVE    TELESIS  293 

3.  Sociocracy  recognizes  natural  inequalities  and 
aims  to  abolish  artificial  inequalities. 

4.  Individualism  confers  benefits  on  those  only 
who  have  the  ability  to  obtain  them,  by  superior 
power,  cunning,  intelligence,  or  the  accident  of 
position. 

5.  Socialism  would  confer  the  same  benefits  on 
all  alike,  and  aims  to  secure  equality  of  fruition. 

6.  Sociocracy  would  confer  benefits  in  strict  pro- 
portion to  merit,  but  insists  upon  equality  of  oppor- 
tunity as  the  only  means  of  determining  the  degree 
of  merit. 

A  cycle  is  thus  completed.  Sociocracy  is  a  re- 
turn to  nature  from  which  society  has  departed. 
Individualism  was  the  original  and  natural  method 
recognizing  natural  inequalities  and  apportioning 
benefits  according  to  natural  ability.  Individual 
telesis  has  completely  abolished  this  method.  So- 
cialism recognizes  this,  and  would  remedy  it  by  an 
equally  wide  departure  from  the  natural.  Collective 
telesis  can  alone  remove  the  artificial  barriers  raised 
by  individual  telesis  and  j^lace  society  once  more  in 
the  free  current  of  natural  law. 


INDEX 


Absolute  ethics,  169 

Acalephae,  53 

Activity  as  a  factor  in  social  prog- 
ress, 114 

Adaptation,  Imperfection  of,  250 

Administrative  nihilism,  58 

JSsthetic  sentiments,  80 

Affections,  The,  95 

Affective  faculties,  96, 109, 110, 143, 
165,  175 

Alcliemy,  140 

Alconomy,  140 

Alembert,  D',  5 

Altruism,  4,  103 

Amoral  action,  185 

Ampere,  5 

Analogies,  Sociological,  56,  60,  93 

Anethical  action,  185 

Animals  as  cosmic  products,  239 

Anthropdceiitric  tlieory,  24 

Anthropological  Society  of  Wash- 
ington, (M 

Anthropology,  Relation  of,  to  soci- 
ology, xi,  64,  123 

— ,  Classification  of,  64 

Anthropomorphisnj,  131 

Anthropo-teleology,  215 

Anticipation,  86,  157 

Anti-social  qualities,  91 

Ai)es,  to  what  extent  gregarious,  90 

Appetite,  Intellectual,  10(5 

—  as  a  social  factor,  144,  152 
Api)lied  sociology,  203 
Archajology,  123,  VM 
Aristotle,  .'54 

Art  a  strictly  human  attribute,  82, 
85 

—  exclusively  telle,  85,  185,  186, 
266 


Art  a  condition  to  the  existence  of 
society,  112,  256 

— ,  Origin  and  development  of,  132 

— ,  The  social,  271 

Artificial  equalities  and  inequali- 
ties, 292,  293 

Association,  Animal,  89,  90,  92 

— ,  Human,  91,  92,  127,  266 

Astronomical  economics,  201 

Astronomy,  8, 139,  140 

Athanteus,  181 

Attractive  legislation,  189,  273 

Baronomy,  139,  140 

Beauty,  Sense  of,  80 

Bentliam,  Jeremy,  206 

Besonnenheit,  87,  88 

Betterment,  Social,  204-206 

Biologic  economics,  254 

Biology,  Relation  of,  to  sociology, 

xi,43 
— ,  First  use  of  the  word,  4 
— ,  Transcendental,  8 
— ,  Dynamic,  168 
Bionomy,  139 
Blumenbach,  209 
Brain  development,  67-71 
—  as  an  emotional  center,  104,  105 
— ,  The  social,  56,  187,  268 

Carlyle,  Thomas,  201 

Carpenter,  AVilliam  B.,  78,  87 

Causes,  The  three  kinds  of,  239 

— ,  Final,  239-245 

Chemical  elements  as  cosmic  prod- 
ucts, 239 

Chemistry,  Etymology  of  the  word, 
140 

Church,  Function  of  the,  173 


295 


296 


INDEX 


Civilization  wholly  artificial,  85, 

185 

—  defined,  18G,  261 
Classification  of  the  sciences,  5, 19, 

139 
— ,  Synoptical,  10 

—  in  sociology  necessary,  117,  118 
Clothing,  Origin  of,  253 
Collective  telesis,  xii,  181, 186, 190, 

191,  195,  196,  262-293 

—  telics,  190 
Competition,  257,  258 

Comte,  Augusta,  3,  4,  5,  6,  7,  8,  9, 
12,  13,  18,  19,.  49,  73,  168,  192, 
252 

Conation,    Direct     and     indirect 
method  of,  236,  270,  271 

Conservation  of  energy,  211 

Constants  of  nature,  39 

Constituencies,  Enlightenment  of, 
280,  281 

Consumption  the  standpoint  of  so- 
ciology, 287 

Contract,  Regime  of,  134 

Copernicus,  208 

Cosmical  crises,  40 

Cosmology,  Relation  of  sociology 
to,  xi,  21 

Creation  vs.  genesis,  214 

Creative  genius,  113 

Cromwell,  267 

Crying,  74 

Cudworth,  181 

Cunning,  112,  184,  247 

Cunningham,  William,  202, 203, 206 

Darwin,  Charles,  76,  87, 143,  201 
Data  of  sociology,  xi,  116 
Deception,  Principle  of,  112,  183, 

247 
De  Foe,  255 

Deliherative  assemblies,  278 
Democracy,  277-281 
Demography,  136 
Descartes,  167,  290 
Descriptive  sociology,  135 
Desire  a  true  natural  force,  109, 

144,  166 

—  presupposes  memory,  153,  241 


Desire,  Synonyms  of,  167 

Differential  attributes,  239 

Diplomacy,  112,  184 

Directive  agent,  109 

Discovery  of  truth  as  a  source  of 

pleasure,  106 
Distribution,  Social  vs.  economic, 

291 
Doing  good,  102, 103 
Dynamic  agent,  109,  167,  168, 175 
— ,  Two  senses  of  the  word,  167, 168, 

192 

—  biology,  168 

—  economics,  168 

—  geology,  168 

—  sociology,  168, 195,  216,  218 
,  Active  or  positive  vs.  passive 

or  negative,  217,  235 
Dynamics  of  mind,  211 

Earth,  Man's  relations  to  the,  32 
Economics,  how  distinguished  from 
sociology,  13,  14,  284-290 

—  a  special  social  science,  136 
— ,  Dynamic,  168 

— ,  Astronomical,  201 

— ,  Biologic,  254 

Economy,  Pain  and  pleasure,  206 

Effort  as  a  social  factor,  114,  115 

Emotions,  The,  95 

— ,  Pleasures  of  the,  102 

Empiricism,  266 

Energy,  Storage  of,  41,  79,  146, 171, 

238-24() 
— ,  Mechanical  expression  for,  140, 

141 
— ,  Conservation  of,  211 
Ennui,  103 
Environment,  Knowledge  of  the, 

122 

—  transforms  the  animal  but   is 
transformed  by  man,  255 

Equality,  Artificial,  292,  293 

—  of  opportunity,  293 

Ether  as  a  cosmic  product,  239 
Etheronomy,  139,  140 
Ethics,  Absolute,  169 
Ethnography, 123,  136 
Ethnology,  123,  136 


INDEX 


297 


Evolution,  The  cosmic  object  of, 
115 

— ,  Social,  180,  206,  233,  282,  283 

— ,  Law  of,  210,  232,  233 

— ,  Products  of,  239 

— ,  Steps  in,  282,  283 

Evolutionary  teleology,  44 

Exogamy,  129 

Extra-normal  products  of  evolu- 
tion, 222 

Faith,  Scientific,  141,  150 
Feeling  vs.  thought,  95, 104 

function,  98,   114,  156,  177, 

218,  219 

—  the  object  of  the  organism,  115 

—  as  a  cosmic  property,  239 
Ferrarese,  L.,  181,  182 
Fetishism,  133 

Final  causes,  Nature  of,  239-246 
Firmament,  why  so  called,  22 
Flint,  Robert,  viii 
Force,  Mechanical  expression  for, 

140,  141 
— ,  Every  true  science  a  domain  of, 

163 
Forces,  Social,   xii,  139,  142,  190, 

274-276 
— ,  — ,  Classification  of  the,  147-149 
— ,  — ,  Physical  and  spiritual,  149 

—  of  individual  preservation,  148, 
149 

race  continuance,  148,  154 

elevation,  148,  155 

Fortuity  of  the  universe,  37,  39 
French  mind,  Qualities  of  the,  9 
Function  vs.  feeling,  98,  114,  156, 
177,  218,  219 

—  the  object  of  nature,  114,  115 
— ,  Nature  of,  172-174 

Galileo,  208 
Galton,  Francis,  186 
Genesis,  179,  IHO,  213,  220,  221 
— ,  Social,  UW,  191,  213,  234 

—  vs.  creation,  214 
Genetic  jtrogress,  179,  223 

—  method,  216 
Genetics,  180 


Genetics,  Social,  190 

Genius,  113 

Geological  record,  Imperfection  of 

the,  34 
Geology,  Dynamic,  168 
Good,  Nature  of  the,  97,  100,  158 
Government,  56,  129,  187,  188,  228- 

232,  264,  266-268 
— ,  Society  without,  228,  229 
— ,  Natural  origin  of,  232 
Gravitation  and  radiation,  46 
Gray,  Asa,  44,  45 
Gregariousness,  90 

Hamilton,  Sir  William,  236 

Happiness,  115,  206 

Hegel,  5,  49 

Helniholtz,  44 

Hierarchy  of  the  sciences,  10, 139 

,  Pedagogic  principle  of 

the,  119, 120,  121 

Histoire-bataille,  123 

Historical  school,  132 

History,  Relative  brevity  of  hu- 
man, 33 

—  as  a  special  social  science,  123, 
125,  126,  136 

Hobbes,  5,  49,  224 
Holophrastic  languages,  85 
Homologies  vs.  analogies,  60,  93 
Hugo,  Victor,  9 
Human   attributes,   Distinctively, 

71-89 
Huntington,  A;  J.,  181 
Hutton,  James,  209 
Huxley,  Tliomas  Henry,  4,  33,  46, 

58,60,61,82 
Hypotheses,  39 

Lb'alics,  204 

Ininiortality,  Doctrine  of,  29 

Indifferent  vs.  intensive  sensation. 

Indirection,  Intellectual,  18.">,  244 
— ,  Moral,  184 
— ,  Pliysical,  185 

Individual  telcsis,  xii,  181, 182, 190, 
191,  2.'M,  270,  293 

—  telics,  liM) 


298 


INDEX 


Individualism,  259,  292,  293 

Inequalities,  Artificial,  292,  293 

Ingenuity,  112,  185,  260 

— ,  Governmental,  277 

— ,    Individual    v&.    collective    or 

social,  291,  292 
Inorganic    compounds    as   cosmic 

products,  239 
Instinct,  110 

Institutions,  123,  128,  170 
Intellect  a  guide  to  feeling,  97,  109 
— ,  Pleasures  of  the,  104 
— ,  Substitutes  for,  110 
— ,  Function  of  the,  179 
— ,  The  social,  187 

—  as  a  cosmic  property,  239,  243 

—  an  accident,  248 
Intellectual  forces,  148, 149 

—  indirection,  183,  244 
Intensive  vs.  indifferent  sensations, 

165 
Interest,  All  questions  of  principle 

reducible  to  those  of,  290 
Intuition,  111 

Intuitive  reason  and  judgment.  111 
Invention,  112,  185,  265 
— ,  Governmental,  271 
— ,  Sociological,  272 

Kant,  Immanuel,  76, 150,  169 
Kepler,  215 

Kidd,  Benjamin,  28,  131,  186 
Kinetic  vs.  dynamic  phenomena, 

1()8,  192 
Knowledge   of   the  environment, 

122 

Labor,  True  meaning  of,  256 
Laissez  faire,  59,  237 
Lamarck,  Jean,  4,  9 
Landseer,  81 
Language,  84 
Laughing,  73 
LeConte,  Joseph,  79 
Legislation  as  invention,  188,  271 
— ,  Attractive,  189,  273 
— ,  Scientific,  277-279 
Life,  Duration  of  the  period  of,  on 
the  earth,  44 


Life,  Increasing  valuation  of,  157 

—  as  a  cosmic  property,  239 
Locke,  John,  5 

Love  as  a  principle,  155 
Lyell,  Sir  Charles,  209 

Machinery,  132,  255 

— ,  Social,  211,  292 

Machines,  171,  255 

Magic,  Origin  of,  23 

Maine,  Sir  Henry  Sumner,  134 

Mallery,  Garrick,  64 

Malthus,  202,  224 

Malthusian  principle,  201 

Man,  Late  development  of,  32 

— ,  Systematic  place  of,  67 

— ,  Physical  development  of,  69 

— ,  attributes  distinguishing  him 

from  animals,  71-89 
— ,  happiness  his  object  or  end, 

115,  218 
— ,  The  study  of,  122,  199 

—  as  a  cosmic  product,  239 
Marriage,  128 
Martyrdom,  157 

Mason,  Otis  T.,  65 

Mass  as  a  mechanical  unit,  140, 141 

Mechanical  units,  140,  141 

Mechanics  of  society,  xii,  160,  211 

Mechanisms,  170,  171,  172 

Meliorism,  26,  204,  205 

Metaphysics,  134 

Metazoa,  61 

Mill,  John  Stuart,  12, 13 

Mind,  Biologic  origin  of,  96, 143, 166 

— ,  Affective  side  of,  96,  109,  110, 

143,  165,  175 
— ,  Perceptive  side  of,  96, 110,  111, 

ia5 
— ,  Dynamics  of,  211 
— ,  Law  of,  247 
Misarchists,  187,  228 
Momentum,    Mechanical    formula 

for,  140,  141 
Monopoly,  225 
Monotheism,  133 
Montesquieu,  224 
Moral  sense,  76 

—  progress,  108 


INDEX 


299 


Moral  indirection,  184 
Morals,  Pure,  169 
More,  Dr.  Henry,  IGO 
Motive  vs.  purpose,  241 
Mythology,  131 

Natural  history,  126 

method,  200 

—  selection,  226 

does  not  secure  the  survival 

of  the  fittest,  258 
Nature,  Object  of,  45,  114,  115,  218 
— ,  Law  of,  247,  254 
Necessity  vs.  utility,  108,  156 
Neo-Darwinism,  111 
Neo-Lamarckism,  113 
Newtonian  laws  of  motion,  142, 166 
Nisus  of  nature,  145,  167 
Non-advantageous  faculties,  113 
Nostocese,  53,  57 

Objective  psychology,  96 

Oken,  5 

Ontology,  134 

Opinion,  Settlement  of,  204,  205 

Opportunity,  Equality  of,  293 

Optimism,  23,  25,  %\ 

Order,  Social,  171,  I'K) 

Organic    compounds     as     cosmic 

products,  239 
Organism,  Object  of  the,  115 
Organization,  4(5 
Orientalism,  29 
Ornamentation,  81 
Over-production,  290 

Pain  economy,  206 

Paley,  76 

Parable  of  St.  Simon,  228 

Paradoxes  of  nature,  22 

Passions,  The,  95 

Patten,  Simon  N.,  168,  206 

Perception  of  relations,  111,  243, 

2fJ5 
Perfjeptive  faculties,  96,  110,  111, 

165 
Pessimism,  24,  26,  35 
Philology,  64 
Philosophy,  Social,  vii,  viii,  xi,  1 


Philosophy,  Modern  vs.  ancient,  116 
— ,  Primitive,  130, 131 
Physical  indirection,  185 
Physiocracy,  224 

Place  of  sociology  among  the  sci- 
ences, xi,  3 
Planets,  Habitability  of  the,  31 
Plants  as  cosmic  products,  239 
Plastic,  Survival  of  the,  257 
Plato,  49,  181 
Platonic  ideas,  11 
Pleasure,  Origin  of,  98,  152 
— ,  Philosophy  of,  100-103 

—  economy,  206 

Pleasures,  Scale  of,  101,  108,  158 

— ,  Intellectual,  104 

Political  economy,  how  distin- 
guished from  sociology,  13,  14, 
284-290 

Politics,  Speculative,  12 

— ,  The  science  of,  12 

Polyandry, 128 

Polytheism,  133 

Pope,  Alexander,  199 

Positivity,  7 

Powell,  J.  W.,  64 

Power,  Mechanical  expression  for, 
140,  141 

Preservative  forces,  148 

Principle,  All  questions  of,  reduci- 
ble to  those  of  interest,  290 

Production,  True  meaning  of,  256, 
291 

Progress,  Social,  3.3,  179,  190,  265 

— ,  Moral,  108 

— ,  Genetic,  179,  223 

— ,  Telic,  179,  180 

— ,  Active  or  positive  vs.  passive 
or  negative,  217,  235 

Properties,  Cosmic,  239 

Prot(!Ction  and  free  trade,  287 

Protestant  reformation,  30 

l'rf)toco('ci,  53,  57 

Protoplasm  the  physical  basis  of 
life,  4(5 

—  as  a  cosmic  pro<luct,  239,  240 
Protozoa,  (!1 

Prussian  railroads,  287-289 
Psychics,  145 


300 


INDEX 


Psychologic  basis  of  sociology,  236, 

237,  259 
Psychology,  Relation  of  sociology 

to,  xi,  94 

—  a  department  of  anthropology, 
64 

— ,  Subjective   vs.    objective,   96, 

109,  110 
Psychonomy,  139,  140 
Pure  sociology,  169 

—  morals,  169 

Purpose  of  sociology,  xii,  191,  207 

—  distinguished  from  motive,  241 

Quality,  All  questions  of,  reducible 

to  those  of  quantity,  290 
Quatrefages,  A.  de,  81 

Radiation  and  gravitation,  46 

Railroads,  Prussian,  287-289 

Rationality,  83 

Reason,  83,  105 

Reflective     verbs.     Philosophical 

meaning  of,  214,  215 
Reformation,  The  Protestant,  30 
Religion,  27,  131 
— ,  Cosmical  function  of,  173 
Rejirod  active  forces,  148 
Ricardo,  224 
Robinson  Crusoe,  255,  256 

Sagacity,  112,  184 
Saint  Simon,  Parable  of,  228 
Schopenhauer,  74,  78,  87,  105,  166 
Science,  Social,  ix,  xii,  137 

—  involves  philosophy,  viii,  116 
— ,  Purpose  of,  197,  207 

—  consists  essentially  in  knowing, 
265 

Scientific  legislation,  277-279 
Self-consciousness,  86 
Self-preservation,  Law  of,  23 
Sensation,   Intensive  v&.   indiffer- 
ent, 165 
Senses,  Pleasures  of  the,  102 
Sexual  instinct,  102 
Seymour,  Thomas  D.,  181 
Shaler,  Nathaniel  S.,  44 
Shelter,  Origin  of,  253 


Shrewdness,  112,  184 

Small,  Albion  W.,  v,  5,  180,  181, 

196,  204 
Smith,  Adam,  202,  224 
Sociability,  41,  90 
Social  betterment,  204-206 

—  dynamics,  168,  175-190 

—  economics,  287 

—  economy,  12 

—  evolution,  180,  206,  233,  282,  283 

—  forces,  xii,  139,  142,  190,  274-276 
,  Classification  of  the,  147, 148, 

149 

,  Physical,  149 

,  Spiritual,  149 

—  genesis,  xii,  190,  191,  213,  234 

—  genetics,  190 

—  intellect,  187 

—  machinery,  211,  292 

—  mechanics,  160,  211 

—  order,  171,  190 

—  organism,  49-63,  187,  268 

—  philosophy,  vii,  viii,  xi,  1 

—  physics,  161 

—  progress,  33,  179,  190,  265 

—  science,  ix,  xii,  137 

—  sciences.  The  special,  135 

—  statics,  168-175,  190,  218 

—  structures,  170 

—  telesis,  190 

—  telics,  190 
Socialism,  292,  293 
Societary,  Use  of  the  word,  5 
Society,  Effort  the  object  of,  115 

—  an  institution,  128,  170 
Sociocracy,  292,  293 

Sociology,    Place    of,  among   the 
sciences,  xi,  3 

— , in  the  curriculum,  136 

— ,  the  word,  First  use  of,  3 

— , ,  Etymology  of,  139 

— ,  how  distinguished  from  politi- 
cal economy,  13,  14,  284-290 
— ,  —  it  should  be  taught,  17 

—  and  cosmology,  21 
biology,  43 

anthropologj%  M,  123 

psychology,  94 

— ,  Animal,  92 


INDEX 


301 


Sociology,  Data  of,  116 

— ,  Acquaintance  with  the  simpler 

sciences  necessary  to,  119 
— ,  Dynamic,  1G8,  195,  216,  218 
— ,  — ,  Active  or  positive,  217,  235 
— ,  — ,  Passive  or  negative,  217 
— ,  Pure,  169 
— ,  Purpose  of,  191,  207 
— ,  Schools  of,  191-195 
— ,  Applied,  203 
— ,  Psychologic  basis  of,  236,  237, 

259 
Socionomy,  139,  140 
Somatology,  64,  123 
Space  as  a  mechanical  unit,  140, 

141 
Speculative  genius,  113 
Speech,  Origin  of,  70 
Spencer,  Herbert,  6,  44,  49,  50,  56, 

57,  60,  76,  94,  134,  135,  168,  187, 

192,  228,  234,  267 
Spinoza,  160 
Spiritual  forces,  149 
Statics,  Social,  168-175,  190,  218 
Stationary,  Fallacy   of    the,   282, 

283 
Statistics,  124 
Status,  Regime  of,  134 
Stetson,  Cliarlotte  Perkins,  283 
Storage  of  energy,  41,  79,  146,  171, 

238-246 
Strategy,  112,  184 
Structures,  Social,  170 
Subjective  psychology,  96,  109,  110 
Sun,  Elements  of  the,  31 
Survival  of  the  fittest,  226,  258 

plastic,  257 

Sympatliy,  74 

Synoptical  classification,  10 

Tact,  112 

Taste,  Staiulanis  of,  80 

Taxation,  Fiscal  vs.  social  effects 

of,  2«<; 
Technology,  f4,  123,  13(5 
Teleolofjy,  IKl,  2:U) 
— ,  Evolutidiiary,  45 
— ,  Anlhro])0-  and  theo-,  215 
Telesis,  18<),  181,  213,  250 


Telesis,  Individual,  181,  182,  190, 
191,  234,  270,  293 

— ,  Collective,  181,  186,  190,  191, 
195,  196,  262-293 

— ,  Social,  190 

Telestics,  181 

Telic  progress,  179,  180 

Telics,  180,  181,  190 

— ,  Individual,  collective,  social, 
190 

Thallassicollre,  53,  57 

Theory  of  units,  140,  141 

Theo-teleology,  215 

Thibet,  128 

Thought,  Stages  of,  133 

— ,  Basis  of,  243 

Thucydides,  49 

Time  as  a  mechanical  unit,  140, 
141 

Tools,  253,  255 

Transcendental  biology,  8 

Truth,  Power  of  established,  208- 
211 

— ,  Historical  order  of  the  dis- 
covery of,  210 

Unintended    phenomena,  98,  221, 

222,  270 
Unmoral  action,  185 
Utility  v.s'.  necessity,  108,  156 
—  the  standpoint  of  economics,  284 

Velocity,    Mechanical    expression 

for,  140,  14J 
Vigilance  committees,  232 
Vincent,  (leorge  E.,  182,  196 
Volition,  78 
Voluntary  organization,  266 

Wages    paid    under    private    and 

public  contract,  289 
Wallace,  Alfred  Rnssel,  111 
Want  as  a  social  factor,  167 
W('('j)ing,  74 

Weisinann,  August,  98,  111 
Werner,  209 
Wliately,  I'.ishop,  77 
Will,  109,  \m,  241 
Wilson,  (jeorge  (jr.,  viii 


THE  PRINCIPLES  OF  SOCIOLOGY. 

AN  ANALYSIS    OF    THE   PHENOMENA    OF  ASSOCIATION  AND   OF 
SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION. 

By  FRANKLIN  HENRY  QIDDINQS,  M.A., 

Professor  of  Sociology  in  Columbia  University,  in  the  City  of  New  York- 
(COLUMBIA  UNIVERSITY   PRESS.) 

8vo.     Cloth.     $3.00,  net. 


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both  from  the  theoretical  standpoint  and  in  its  practical  aspects.  His  reasoning  is 
clear  and  free  from  mere  logomachy  (a  rare  thing  in  works  of  this  kind),  and  his 
conclusions  are  of  an  eminently  practical  character."  —  Public  Opinion. 

"  One  of  the  best  known  writers  on  economic  subjects  is  Professor  John  R. 
Commons,  and  his  '  Distribution  of  Wealth  '  is  sure  to  attract  attention.  Clear-cut 
and  vigorous  in  style,  he  cuts  a  straight  line  through  a  tangled  jungle  of  conflicting 
opinions,  leaving  no  doubt  whatever  as  to  his  own  views,  which  he  defends  with 
keen  logic,  and,  at  the  same  time,  with  due  regard  to  the  opinions  of  others.  It  is 
a  valuable  addition  to  the  economic  literature  of  the  day."  —  The  Boston  Daily 
Advertiser. 

"  A  very  notable  contribution  to  the  literature  of  political  economy.  .  .  .  Many 
of  his  positions  would  seem  radical  to  that  class  of  economists  who  earned  for  their 
calling  the  title  '  the  dismal  science.'  His  recognition  of  a  distinct  right  to  employ- 
ment, inherent  in  man  and  coequal  with  his  right  of  life  and  liberty,  stamps  him  as 
an  advanced  thinker,  while  his  enumeration  of  a  right  to  marriage  as  an  inalienable 
human  right  is,  we  believe,  unique.  There  is  much  that  is  stimulating  and  sugges- 
tive in  this  book  even  to  the  reader  little  skilled  in  the  niceties  of  economic  discus- 
sion. Its  author  has  not  lost  himself  in  the  verbiage  of  pure  economics.  He  is 
ever  discussing  some  problem  of  vital  importance  of  live  and  present  interest.  His 
chapter  on  the  factors  in  distribution  is  particularly  clearly  reasoned  and  suggestive. 
The  book  deserves  place  in  the  library  of  every  one  interested  in  current  social  and 
economic  topics."  —  The  Chicago  Times. 


THE    MACMILLAN   COMPANY, 

66  FIFTH  AVENUE,   NEW  YORK. 


SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  l-JW*";,,;*S[-Mn|| 


A    000  981  803     0 


